Destiny and Treachery
by Hitomi Zotz
Summary: Guilty of aiding her family's murderer to satisfy an old revenge Artemis Cousland rejects destiny, taken by her lover Arl Howe before Duncan can recruit her, but rejecting the Wardens is not so easy and neither the Witch of the Wilds or surviving Warden Alistair will allow it, will she put down the usurpers or betray the cause and side with them?
1. Prologue

_A retelling of the Cousland Warden story, not strictly following the plot of the game as I want to do my own thing and bring some originality to the plot. Of course there will be plenty of the elements of the game here.  
Artemis Cousland is the fiery rebellious daughter of Teyrn Cousland who has a forbidden love with a mage, this love drives her apart from her family and to the only man who seems to understand her bitterness, Arl Howe. But does Arl Howe really sympathise or is he playing a greater game? When tragedy strikes Artemis finds herself homeless and caught up in a war torn and kingless Ferelden.  
Please read and review and many thanks for taking the time to read this fic!_

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Magic comes from the Fade; for that reason it leaves users vulnerable to the demons beyond the Veil, which is why I was raised to fear it and the mages that wielded it. I never understood magic much, growing up it was something my father frowned upon and my mother feared but respected. The Chantry, for which I have little regard, insists we loath it, proclaiming that it is dangerous, after all they say it was the first mages, the magisters, who tried to enter the Golden City and led to it turning black, it was also they who opposed Andraste. I had no opinion of it until Flynn arrived, a mage from the Circle come at my mother's request to offer some extra support for our lands. Father disapproved of course but said little; even then we could feel the cool mist of trouble gathering.

I was just seventeen when Flynn came; he was tall with thick, golden blonde hair, large, blue-grey eyes and a merry, youthful face. He was twenty; the first signs of manhood were on him, stubble at his jaw, a deepness to his smooth, light voice and his body was toned and without puppy fat. I was fascinated by him, anything the Chantry despised normally intrigued me but even without our Revered Mother's scornful frown I think Flynn would have captivated me. Maybe it was the naivety of a woman who had seen little of people who conjure the elements but I like to think it was more. He was the first not of my blood to speak to me without the respect that came naturally to the guards and servants, instead he addressed me in a sociable and humoured manner. I must admit I was offended at first and dealt with him curtly but my abrasive attitude only made him more determined to acquaint himself with me. He smiled when I looked to him coldly; told jokes when I greeted him with either silence or a grunt of contempt and chased me up corridors sharing light hearted stories with me despite my attempts to ignore him. I suppose I could have accused him of harassment and have my father send him away but even as he offended me he fascinated me and despite myself I found myself listening to his humorous quips and wanting to hear more.

It took a month before I finally talked back without my blunt, frosty manner; he was so shocked he was finally silent before bursting into laughter and jesting that I kept silent because my voice was too musical for normal ears to bear. After that we became more companionable, much to the chagrin of my mother and father, my mother murmured that it was inappropriate for me to be alone with any man whilst my father chastised me, called me foolish and reckless and suggested ridding our household of the mage until my brother Fergus and father's close friend Arl Rendon Howe calmed him. After that I avoided being alone with my father and he attempted to hold his tongue about Flynn but I saw the anger growing in his eyes each time he spotted the mage and I knew that we had to take care.

In all other ways my father could not have been kinder or more loving, yet there had always been a darkness in him, as far as I could remember, a mental scarring to match the physical ones left upon him from the battle of White River. Only fifty men had escaped and though they had finally gained success against the Orlesians and cast off their shackles, the price they had paid for such freedom was evidently heavy on the mind and soul.

Flynn and I conducted our relationship in secrecy when it became more intimate, the first night he kissed me I remember well, we were hidden in a small, forgotten room of dusty crates, cracked vases and dented goblets on the second floor, staring out at a drizzly, cool autumn's evening. To take away from the dreariness Flynn had conjured a show of silvery sparks and golden orbs for me, dancing about the room before one came to hover briefly between us then. His eyes had glowed a brilliant silvery-azure and as I met his stare I saw true magic, something much more rare and intangible than the orbs and sparks, and I knew then just how dangerous it was but also how powerful and wonderful. The orbs faded away and he kissed me and for a moment I tasted something as sweet as sugar and as soft as silk, it was irresistible and I strained myself from trying to take more.

From that night on our relationship grew and grew and we risked exposure by spending more and more time with each other. My arms instructor and weary school master both complained to my mother of absenteeism and she in turn scorned me, shaking her head when I grumbled of boredom and finding it more interesting to wander the grounds with my beloved Mabari pup Spot. She had threatened to take my hound from me but we had both known it was an empty threat. After that I strived to go to my lessons more to avoid detection by father and to please him and mother both but it was hard, every part of me longed to be with Flynn and the little time we had together was never enough. Sometimes we saw each other twice a day but other times it was once a week, and the days without him were cruel and torturous.

The day after my eighteenth he presented me with an unexpected and beautiful gift, a golden locket, circular with the crescent moon carved into it and a tiny star of diamond sparkling beside it. Inside the locket was an inscription addressed '_To my fiery love_'. I treasured it immediately and in a moment of passionate idiocy I fastened it about my neck and vowed never to take it off. I tried to hide it beneath my shirts and dresses but mother's keen eye was quick to spy the fine, glittering chain and she queried about it. I lied, insisted it was an old necklace, one of many in my box and managed to wave off her insistence on seeing it. Of course mother was as stubborn as I could be and she brought it up again later that evening at dinner before my father, Fergus and our guests- Arl Howe and his youngest son Thomas.

My father's gaze had hardened and for the first time I saw in them a hatred directed at me. He had demanded calmly to see this trinket of mine and I was forced to produce it despite my insistence that it was an old pendant I had happened upon in my jewellery collection. Father had remarked that it looked new before querying its origins. It was then that I was saved by an unexpected source, Arl Howe had commented casually that it looked like one he had bought me for a birthday several years ago, thirteenth or fourteenth he could not be sure, naturally picked out by his wife. My father had looked at him curiously before his gaze had softened and he had murmured that it was a lovely gift. He had then apologised to me for his brashness, and murmured that I was always such a mischievous pup sometimes he could not help but be suspicious of me.

After that I tried to take better care with Flynn but it was impossible and soon after the incident at dinner I lay with him, surrendering myself fully to his gentle arms. For me it was a new experience, surprising but not frightening, I burned with eagerness for him and moaned only with pleasure when he took my virginity, cementing our bond together. The urge to be with him only grew stronger after that and we found ourselves hastening to find more and more opportunities to be alone. I awoke purposely early in the morning to slip away with him before lessons and stayed up late in the evening to gaze at the stars by his side. If my ladies suspected anything they knew better than to speak of it. Only Fergus was openly suspicious but my dear brother was kind about it, even teasing as he tried to subtly caution me. Fergus liked Flynn, though he bore a certain fear of him he tried to subdue it, doing his best to overcome old prejudices to get to know my beloved mage. I suspected this was mainly for me and I loved my brother all the more for it.

At nineteen everything ended. I still do not know for certain if our romance was discovered or if it was all a horrible coincidence, or if my father's fear of mages overrode his desire to be protected by one. I fear, given the way things happened, that it was my first concern. The templars came without warning one frosty dawn, six of them clad in armour upon fierce chargers, they battered at the main gates as Flynn and I sat alone in the courtyard playing with Spot. The clattering of my own house's guards and Spot's sudden whines were our only alert before there was a loud demand for 'the mage'. I had stood upright preparing to bolt when I felt Flynn's hand on my wrist holding me back, he had looked me with a grim understanding as if he had always expected this day and murmured, 'goodbye'. With that single word my heart broke though I was too bewildered then to realise it. He had released me suddenly, stood up and pushed me with a surprising force, ordering me in a panic to hide myself. I reached down, grabbed Spot and hurried through a door into a storage room.

Though things were muffled I managed to hear the templars commanding Flynn to go with them, they used the words 'maleficar' and 'apostate' and my body had chilled at them though it was only later that I learned their meaning. When there was silence I had sprung from my hiding place, cursing myself for not taking action, and hastened to find my father.

I should have known better than to expect help from Teyrn Cousland, not for the mage he had always so obviously loathed despite being the one who had paid for his services but what I had not expected was a grim admittance that it was he who had betrayed Flynn to the templars, accusing him of blood magic and a desire to flee from the Circle and other crimes I knew Flynn was not guilty of. I had screamed violently then at my father, cursed him and even tried to attack him in a blind rage only to be restrained by his guards before I could land a blow. I had vowed never to let my hatred of him die, accused him of treachery and then sobbed when I could not free myself from the guards to hurt him, and cursed them also.

Teyrn Bryce Cousland, a man renowned for his wise and good nature had shown a rare spark of violence then, probably the same that had earned him success during the battle of White River, and had slapped me hard. My cheek had immediately blazed in pain though to my pride I managed to resist a cry despite my shock.

"You impertinent whelp!" he had scorned me. "I love you; see you well kept, freer than most young noble women, spared the expected restraint and the early forced marriage, I give you time to find yourself, to grow, and you throw it all back in my face by becoming besotted with a mage! Doting over a guard or a servant I could forgive but not a mage! And I gave you time, and many chances to end it but you couldn't! Or wouldn't!" He shook his head in disgust and waved me away. "Get her from my sight," he had commanded my guards.

For weeks after I had refused to come from my bed despite my father's orders and half-hearted pleas for a reconciliation with the pup I had once been, I did not rise even for food and resisted water until my tongue seemed to blister and I was forced to drink from the goblets and jugs my mother sent up to me. I became ill, pale and bloated, vomiting with the rising sun and tossing and turning through the night as my stomach gave me no rest. When my monthly blood did not come and my servants looked at me with a knowing mixture of pity and disgust I realised the truth of my sickness. I wanted to remain in my room and hide it but my parents refused to humour my grief any longer and I was forced out. In loose robes and an insistence that I was sick from grief I managed to keep a deception for a couple more weeks. Then my mother realised the truth and soon so did my father.

What happened next I can barely bring myself to recall. I was imprisoned in my room, this time against my will, and my father sent out his most trusted men, in secret, to find someone who could rid himself of what he deemed to be an abomination. His terror that what grew within me would be demonic was so great I was certain it drove him to madness. My ladies came trying to force poisons and potions upon me but I resisted and my mother quickly ended such a barbaric deed when I began to starve myself again out of fear of poisons hidden within. Fergus came to see me a few times, my only visitor, he was understanding, and assured me that he would persuade father that I would not give birth to a demonic entity.

Fergus seemed to get through to my father and I was freed from my room and though my father informed me curtly that he disapproved and that the babe would go to the Circle the moment it was birthed, he confessed that he understood I had been led by my heart not my mind and not intentionally brought this about. I, foolish thing, believed him and dined with him, my mother and dear brother that evening as a sign of our reunion. In the dark of the night as I lay in bed after, death stole over me and I awoke soaked in blood and arced in agony. Despite cries for a healer I lost my child and almost my own life too, yet somehow against the odds I struggled on until sunrise when a mage came to heal me, ironically summoned by my pale faced father. I had spied in his blue eyes guilt, I was and still am certain of it, and suspected that my miscarriage was not as natural as it seemed.

First Flynn had been taken from me and then our child, as I lay soaked in the ruination of my lost child I vowed vengeance. After that I took to my bed once more but only for three days until my body found the strength to move again. I was silent with everyone, even Fergus, and though I took food and drink I found no pleasure in it and was a miserable presence at our family dinners. It was only when Arl Howe came with his wife Elizabeta and their children Thomas and Delilah that my spirits were lifted slightly. Rendon Howe was in as ill form as myself, he said, upon my father's pressing, that he was broody over the loss of a fine stallion he had hoped to stud but Thomas had commented to me jestingly in a low voice that what he was really broody over was the loss of a fine maid he had hoped to stud. I had been unable to resist a smile at the vulgar remark and found myself comfortable enough to listen to Rendon and his son even though I was still unwilling to converse.

After dinner I went outside to take the air, finding the evening dark, cool, drizzly and adequately suited to my misery. It was as I walked along an empty balcony with only my Mabari for companion that I spied Arl Howe cutting a lonely figure. He was on the balcony opposite mine, leaning heavily upon its stone wall and staring out at the cloudy night. Behind him was a warm glow from the large glass and iron doors that led into the parlour. I could just about hear Thomas' loud laughter over the soft patter of the rain and felt a prickle of envy and loathing for the men and their happiness. How was it that my father could welcome Thomas so easily and spurn Flynn? Yes Thomas was the son of his friend but was Flynn not as pleasant, warm and friendly as the youngest Howe? I gritted my teeth in anger and turned away to face the night.

"Now I have years to burden me, but what could trouble one your age?" Arl Howe's question came out of the darkness, biting and almost mocking, enough to turn my anger from the joy inside to him.

"I have had many troubles in my short years," I had answered him cuttingly, too angry to care that he might have complained to my father of my attitude or worse, questioned my father about what I hinted at.

"Really?" He had looked through the gloom at me curiously with his dark eyes, ready to judge and yet ready to listen as well. "I had heard of your illness," he admitted, "a lengthy thing and you do still look pale but your mother assured Elizabeta that you were quite recovered."

"Well I am not," I had answered hotly, outraged that even mother was downplaying my grief and heartache as a mere disease. Could she not have admitted my heart was broke? Lied of the man who had done it, but at least let people know that it was not a mere sniffle from the cold that plagued me. I had realised bitterly that heartache in a nineteen-year-old would have been mocked mercilessly and that my mother had not been cruel to lie of my ailments but instead was trying to do me a kindness.

"I can see that," Arl Howe had informed me coldly, evidently like myself, too ill of form for feigned pleasantries and niceties. Instead of making me want to leave this had only intrigued me, I had never seen the Arl unruffled, or indeed any nobleman or woman, save for when the drink took them, asides my own parents of course. This refreshing openness had me intrigued, and I took an odd comfort from it. It was a strange relief to know that I was not the only one suffering inside, Arl Howe suffered too though I did not know his affliction. Sadly I know it now.

Our conversation ended as Thomas exited to summon his father in and I hastened inwards before the younger Howe could spy me or try to engage in conversation. It was to be the first of many frank conversations between the Arl and I. We became each other's only honest companion, with one another we could be bold tongued, ill-spoken and even rude. It had made me happy, though the happiness was bitter and tainted, yet knowing that I could unleash my anger with him made the days easier for me and I started to come around to my family again, though I could not quite release the anger I held for my father.

It was six months before I finally admitted the truth of it all to Arl Howe. My mother and I were guests at his stately home; we had called only for dinner with Elizabeta and Delilah only to be kept captive there by a wicked storm. Thunder had roared through the air, lightening had struck out in all directions, lighting up the sky in a splendid fashion and bringing certain death to patches of grass and stray trees as it threatened to bring down mighty oaks and set fire to the fields. It was late when the Arl returned, dirty and damp from his attempts to help his men stable the horses and see the locals and their livestock safe from the storm. He had entered the study where I had taken refuge by the fire with a sneaked glass of brandy, too excited by the storm to sleep. Until he had arrived, clad in only a tunic and a loose pair of trousers, I had been occupied with watching the storm outside the tall, arched windows, thrilled each time a bolt of white lightning seemed to strike dangerously close.

"Why am I unsurprised to see you unbothered by the weather?" he had queried dryly as he had entered the room, his feet soft upon the wooden floor.

I had looked to him in surprise, my gaze turning bold as his almost black gaze flickered to my thieved glass as I dared him to scold me.

"It raises questions when you drink alone," he had commented dryly as he finally shut the door and stepped into the room. "At least have the courtesy to pour me a glass."

I obeyed with a small smile as Arl Howe sat opposite me in a tall backed chair of mahogany with a green, velvet couch and a sheepskin thrown over its back for comfort. It was an ugly seat, I recall now how most of the room had seemed masculine, violent and ugly, it was wild and neglected, perhaps the Arl's only real room in his home, the rest of it dominated by his wife's tastes and dictations.

We sat there drinking long after the storm died down into the early hours of a weak dawn with a pearly sun and watery, golden grey sky. It was just as the storm ended and twilight still reigned that I confessed all to the Arl, slurring out anger for my father and crying over Flynn. Rendon Howe was not surprised by my confessions of love for the mage, admitting that he, like most people, had been suspicious of it, though he did not show my father's judgement or hatred for mages. When I had cursed my father and explained how he had ruined it, the Arl had looked thoughtful before commenting calmly that whilst my father had overreacted he too would have stopped the relationship.

I had grown angrier then and half-shouted about my unborn child, snatched from me too soon, and cried as I confessed my thoughts that my father had committed the deed. Arl Howe had not said much to that, I remember how he turned pale and his lip stiffened before he murmured a hasty apology and bid me to bed to sleep through my grief. I had obeyed with a stagger and a sob and was embarrassed when he was forced to take me by the hand and escort me to bed to save me from falling. At my doorway I had slumped against him, forcing him to accompany me directly into my room, risking scandal and rumour. I had chortled bitterly at the thought drawing a curious look from him, though he did pry. With effort he put me to bed and there I stayed until a maid roused me with coffee, water and a basin, commenting that she had been informed I had taken a fever.

When I had returned home, back to my senses, I was humiliated, half-afraid of seeing the Arl again and half-afraid of never seeing him again or finding him distant from me to avoid disgrace and anymore accusations I might make about my father, his closest friend. Yet it was not so, within the month he came to my house with his family and once more we spoke, a brief conversation snatched in a hallway during which he admitted quietly that my father's deed vexed him and that he did not wish to believe it but he could not doubt me.

It took just three months more before our odd relationship shifted into something different and dangerous. Had I known then what it would lead to I am ashamed to admit I still would not have stopped it. He was married and many years my senior and I was still in love with another though eager now to fulfil my urges and irk my father. I had taken two lovers since Flynn already, though they could not compare, one was a young soldier who had blushed madly and stammered out fear of retribution, he I had slept with only once, and the other was a farmer's boy who I had tumbled with in the hay when out walking with Spot. My filthy dress and hay tangled hair had given me away to my maids and mother, and though my mother had scorned and frowned I knew she was secretly pleased to see me moving on from Flynn. Yet I had done no such thing, I could not, and every night still I had wondered if he lived and in what state. I had thought of writing to him but knew the letters would be intercepted and destroyed, and so I let the months drift by slowly without any contact between us.

Perhaps I had wanted a lover who not only did not fear a scolding but who felt my grief and bitterness and knew the cause of it, a lover who understood. Perhaps I simply wanted to continue to risk my father's wrath and play with fire. Or perhaps I simply fell for Arl Rendon Howe, attracted by his bold nature and reasonably good looks. Whatever the reason, one night at my home, when I was meant to be in bed, I had found the Arl out on a balcony once more, this one the balcony of his guest room. He was staying the eve with his wife who had long since retired to slumber. I had spied him standing there and in a move that had him wide eyed and barely suppressing a yell I had clambered over three balconies to reach him.

"Seeking the air again?" I had quipped mischievously. I remember how I been wearing just my night dress, a gossamer garment of swan white held tight at the waist with a ribbon of silver, its flowing skirt stopping just above my pale ankles.

"Are you mad?" he had hissed back in horror. "You could have broken your neck!"

I had shrugged, morose after a week of depressive thoughts for Flynn. "Would it be so bad?" I had wondered dryly. "Hmm perhaps if only because I would have no revenge."

Arl Howe had shaken his head as expected and retorted, "do not wish for death, it is a terrible thing. You are still young and such a spitfire, we both know you will overcome this grief of yours."

I had been flattered by his words though I tried to hide it and keep my anger burning. "Will I? And to what end?" I had asked savagely. "To marry a safe man of my father's choosing who will keep me locked up from lovers and mages?"

The Arl had sighed and looked at me scornfully though I saw then, for the first time, the desire in his eyes. "I do not think anyone could keep you locked up for long," he had said sincerely, "you would simply burn the door down and them with it."

I had laughed at his words and nodded. "Yes, you're right, perhaps then I shall not fear and continue having my lovers, husband or no."

"You should not tell me these things," he had chided me even as he continued to look at me with a longing stare I recognised only too well. It was a lustful hunger I had bore myself several times.

"You are the only one I can tell," I had informed him, "you are the only one who listens, who is honest, who says the brutal things that need said." I do not know if I was trying to shock him, spite my father or simply satisfy a base urge, but I kissed him then, it was brief and I pulled back swiftly with a giggle to mask the pounding of my heart.

I did not expect him to respond or to be bold in that regard as well but he returned my desire with his own and to my surprise, and probably his, we began our relationship that night, christening the balcony as his wife slept on oblivious with only a pane of glass to separate us. He was not Flynn of course, no one was, but he was experienced, a man of talents, and I enjoyed every moment we spent on the cold, stone floor. It was to be the start of another secretive coupling for me, one I enjoyed for several reasons. The petty side of me could not help but grin as it took joy out of father's ignorance, though there was a side of me that did feel guilt and remorse for it, but not enough to stop it.

It continued on in the same fashion until I was twenty-two and my life seemed to both end and begin anew. This is when my true story starts, the beginning of a life cursed and yet blessed, an adventure born out of bloodshed and death and doomed to end in it, the beginning of being a Warden, Ferelden's last hope.


	2. Chapter 1

It was a cool, crisp morning when news of the darkspawn reached Highever. It was unusual but not unheard of for the beasts to be seen above ground but as rumours spread it became clear that there were more than a few, in fact, as we learned by the afternoon, there was an army. I was in the library trying to pay attention to the elderly Aldous' teachings when an excited Fergus intruded upon us.

My brother's dark brown eyes seemed to gleam with eagerness as he rushed towards us, not slowed by Aldous' frown. My brother was dressed in the fine noble clothes of Highever, fancy but practical without the decorations and trimmings one might find on an Orlesian. Fergus' preferred style was armour, or more casual clothes but his wife Oriana often pressured him into wearing more elaborate garments in an attempt to appear both respectable and authoritative. As she often reminded him, and her companions, he was the heir to one of only two teyrnirs in the kingdom.

"King Cailan has called for our aid," he announced with a proud smile.

"What for?" I demanded curiously whilst Aldous spluttered, annoyed at the interruption and yet eager to hear more. I found the interruption a welcome respite for although I was interested in our current topic, the tempestuous relationship between the Howes and Couslands, Aldous' old and weary voice had managed to make the topic seem long and boring.

"To fight the darkspawn," Fergus retorted. "We will have to be there in one week's time, it's all arranged, father and I will go with our men and Arl Howe and his men."

"Is it so bad?" I demanded with disbelief. "Surely there aren't so many that the king requires so many men, is it a war?"

Fergus shrugged his shoulders and gave a tight smile. "It could be," he confessed, "it's unsure at the moment, there are rumours here and there but the only fact I know is that we are to leave for Ostagar in a week."

"Ostagar?" I echoed.

"It was once one of the most important defensive Imperial holdings," Aldous answered, "a grand fortress at the edge of the Korcari Wilds, it ended many a would be Chasind invasion."

I looked at the old man with a mild interest, he was a font of knowledge and I respected him for it but his manner of teaching was also patronising and he never ceased to speak in the same bland, gruff tone.

"A good place to see off a darkspawn invasion," Fergus remarked lightly drawing my attention back to him.

"I would like to see such a battle," I confessed eagerly. Aldous scoffed and I gave him a glower, which only earned me a mocking look in retort.

Fergus let out a gentle laugh, ceased by my glower turning his way. "So eager to fight aren't you little sister?" he queried teasingly. "Who would mind the castle if you came?"

"Mother," I answered swiftly.

"And who would keep her company?" he questioned.

I frowned back at him. "She can look after herself as well you know. I can fight as well as any man," I boasted.

Fergus folded his arms and his grin widened, lighting up his handsome face. Smiles came so easily to my brother and I envied him for it, he was always merry and charming, a delightful presence to be in, there were few who could resist his charisma. I would never understand why he had married so young and settled for such a sharp tongued and narrow minded wife who aspired to be nothing more than a wife and mother. With his looks, allure and heritage my brother could have had any woman in the kingdom, noble or otherwise but he had married a bony cheeked Antivan. I suspected my father and the fact that Oriana was the daughter of a very rich trader had something to do with it though Fergus would never admit it.

"I seem to recall your trainer comes from less than...respectable sources," Fergus commented teasingly.

It was not entirely untrue, I had sought teachings in fighting from the kitchen and stable boys who knew how to scrap dirtily and swing hard with their fists. I had also taken lessons in pick pocketing and knife fighting from somewhat shadowy rogues in the bars. Naturally all this I had done in secret, or at least I had tried to, when the rogues had learned who I was my coin had not mattered the fear of my father was so great. As for my father he thankfully did not know but if Fergus knew there was every chance he might find out, though not from my brother's tongue but from whomever Fergus had come to learn about my lessons from. What Fergus did not know, nor anyone else for that matter, was that I had also taken lessons from Arl Howe. Before he taught me tricks beneath the sheets, if he was in the mood for it and we had the time and privacy, he would teach me how to wield a sword. At first I was clumsy to the point of amusement, but despite how few our lessons were I was starting to improve.

I did not flinch at Fergus' accusation but instead grinned with pride and retorted, "so long as they teach me well I do not think their reputation should matter."

Fergus laughed loudly whilst Aldous spluttered in disapproval. "Well sis one day we will test your dodgy skills but not at Ostagar I should think. Anyway, I have to go and break the news to Oriana and Oren; I will see you at dinner unless you're out practising lessons with the stable boys again." He gave me a knowing wink, chortled and then turned and headed back outside.

I was eager to go now and learn more about this would be war but I could feel Aldous' eyes boring into me and knew that he would punish my impetuous side by drawing out the lesson in the hopes of disciplining me. Once I would have risked his wrath and in turn my mother's by departing anyway to seek out Flynn but now there was no one to go and gossip with save the maids who would care nothing for a distant battle. I turned back to Aldous meeting his pale blue stare and waited silently for him to resume teaching.

It was thirty minutes at least before the lecture was done and by then my feet and ears were aching and I was sick of the sight of books and the smell of their leathery covers and the dust they had collected on the shelves. I hurried from the library and headed to the main hall, where I found father talking to a couple of his men. He paused and looked my way with a suspicious stare before continuing on.

The hall was big, formed of stone with wooden rafters it had an emerald green carpet stretching up almost its entire length and matching banners hanging from the ceiling with the herald of Highever, two dark green spears crossed over a pale jade teardrop, embroidered on the bottom of them. As far as castle halls went it was grander than Arl Howe's in Amaranthine but not what one might expect of a teyrn's main domain of business. It had wooden benches on either side of the carpet, two sets of wooden chairs and tables, and at every wooden column a hollow knight stood armed with a sword pointing down, and above them hung a round, wooden shield with two swords crossed behind them, and above these candles hung from iron stems in round, glass lanterns. In addition to this there was a large fireplace at the back of the hall raised on two shallow stone steps with two wooden, serpentine statues on either side of it.

What I always noticed first in the hall and despised the most was the large portrait of my father hanging on the right wall between two columns and beneath a stone arch, it sat in a gilded frame depicting him proud and armoured with the Cousland herald on his chest. I understood it as a point of pride and he was hardly the only noble to have such a portrait but to have it so big and so brazenly on display, looking down on anyone and everyone who set foot into the hall, to me it seemed egotistical and unnerving. Even now I felt its cold eyes upon me as my real father's eyes left me. Whilst his eyes could still, on occasion, bear warmth to me, the portrait had always been incapable of it and from the day it had been finished and hung there I had always viewed it as soulless.

I wavered nearby, anxious to eavesdrop though I did not want to draw too much attention to myself and be dismissed.

"It's the king who calls so we must answer," my father said firmly. "It will not be an easy battle I should think but there is nothing to suggest that these darkspawn are anything other than an unusually large collection."

"Not a Blight then?" one soldier, a redhead known as Ser Gilmore, questioned curiously, almost hopefully I thought.

My father shook his head sternly. "No," he replied firmly, "it's just a problematic number of darkspawn. We will prepare to be gone within the week, Rendon and I intend to discuss battle strategies tonight, Ser Gilmore I hope you will join us for that."

I tensed slightly as Ser Gilmore flushed with pride and nodded. Arl Howe would be coming tonight; a thrill ran through me at the thought. It had been two years since our relationship had begun and although my feelings for the Arl had developed into something of an infatuation it was not love, three years since he had been taken to me and yet my heart still belonged to Flynn and hung heavy for him as every now and then I wondered of his fate. Was he still alive? Was he a prisoner of the Circle or an apostate on the run? Part of me hoped for the latter, Flynn could not stand being contained in a tower, but if he was on the run how long could it last before the templars found him?

"Pup?"

I was jerked out of my thoughts for my lost mage and my current lover by my father regarding me with puzzlement. The years had tempered his rage for me and he began to regard me with the affection of old and whilst my temper too had cooled my desire for vengeance remained burning within. Much as I wanted our family to be as it was, close and whole, I could never forget that my own father had cost me the love of my life and my unborn child. For the latter loss I had no proof only a certainty that never left me, perhaps I had miscarried that night but I refused to believe it, I would never forget the look in his eyes when he had seen me unwell, there had been guilt burning in his sky blue irises.

"Yes?" I questioned dumbly.

"Are you alright?" he asked sincerely.

"Fine, just concerned about this darkspawn matter," I admitted.

He gave me a gentle smile before running a hand through his thick, greying locks. "Do not be, the darkspawn have always troubled this land and sadly they always will, it is nothing we cannot handle."

"Why does the king need so many men if it is so trivial a matter?" I queried.

"So that victory is certain," my father answered bluntly. "Now, do not worry yourself, I am sure you have studies that require your attention more."

I frowned before nodding and turning from him. He would never think me worthy of discussing battle with; such conversations would be saved for the men. Such an attitude irked me, it was worthy of Antiva were women were restricted as my sister-in-law Oriana demonstrated repeatedly. This was Ferelden, here a woman could don armour and pick up a sword without anyone protesting, alas I seemed to be the exception as whilst my father had not objected to Fergus' suggestion that the quartermaster begin teaching me some skills with a sword and shield, he would never permit me to join him and Fergus in battle.

I spent the rest of the day in town with Spot, bargaining at the stalls for a new dagger and flirting with visiting trader Oisin, persuading him to teach me a few skills with my newly acquired dagger before I headed home beneath the fading light of the sun, hungry for the dinner that awaited me.

I arrived for dinner late and dishevelled, spending longer with Oisin than planned. The Antivan rogue had tried and failed to seduce me with his foreign tongue, and whilst he was of a decent appearance, the knowledge that Arl Howe would be coming kept me from giving into the Antivan. I was happy to spy a couple of the Arl's retainers sharing a mug of ale with some of our own guards as I scurried through the courtyard, now darkened with long shadows as the last of the sun's light slipped away. Spot gave a hungry growl and I waved him off saying, "go bother Nan for your dinner." He gave a happy bark before heading off to the kitchens were the cook, once my childminder, would undoubtedly curse and yell at him before giving into his whines and offering him some fine slivers of pork or beef. The old woman could be bitter to him but we all knew she had a soft spot for him, having seen him grow from a pup just as she had watched me grow from a child.

With no time to change or even wash, I rubbed my hands hastily on my worn, mustard top and hastened to the dining hall. There my entire family sat along with Arl Howe, his wife, Elizabeta, and their children Thomas and Delilah. They all paused to glance my way, Oriana and my father with scorn and embarrassment, my mother in disbelief, Fergus with mockery, Elizabeta with disgust and the rest of her family with amusement, though I watched Rendon bow his head hastily to hide the twitch of his lip that hinted at a smile.

"Good grief daughter!" my mother cried out disapprovingly. "This is hardly the state you should be presenting yourself for dinner in when we have guests."

"The Howes are hardly mere guests," Fergus commented jovially, "really they're family."

"Indeed," my father was quick to agree as he frowned at me, "but even before family we should make an effort, the rest of us have."

Determined to ignore the icy looks Elizabeta and Oriana were giving me, I held my ground and tried to appear unconcerned. "I had an engaging matter than went on longer than planned," I explained airily as I stepped up to the place set for me. I had not missed any part of the dinner at least as only now the maids appeared with the starters on a wooden cart.

"And what was that?" my father queried bitingly.

"Or who?" Fergus questioned mischievously.

I looked up to my brother with a frown and met his sparkling eyes; he was naturally loving every minute of my disgrace. If it had been more serious he would have been my ally but as it was a silly matter he could not resist making matters worse.

"Another who?" my mother queried wearily. "Really dear," she sighed and shook her head. "At least keep better time."

"I will mother," I said quietly, "and I am sorry for my delay."

"But not your appearance?" Oriana quipped dryly.

I gave the woman a vicious look but said nothing. She was as usual impeccably dressed and groomed, her short golden blonde hair down save for two braids and a flattering dress of pink silk on, sheer at the chest with silver and pearl studding below the breasts and at her shoulders, it was smooth and tight against her skin showing off her appealing figure. Compared to her I looked like a grubby pauper, my dark hair tangled and as black as soot, smudges on my cheeks and my clothes deliberately chosen for discreet travelling in the village, now stained with mud.

"Well at least you are here, better that than not at all," Arl Howe came to my rescue though his tone was blunt I appreciated the gesture. I met his gaze with a grateful look and could not help but feel flattered when I saw the lust beginning to burn in his grey stare, even dishevelled I was still attractive to him.

"I agree," Fergus remarked chirpily, "and I'm starving, so can we excuse my sister looking like she lives in a barn and begin eating?"

My mother let out a chuckle and even father gave a small smile before giving a nod, permitting us all to begin eating. Conversation at the table was amicable; there was no mention of the darkspawn, king or Ostagar, instead Fergus and Thomas kept us entertained with their jokes, Oriana and Elizabeta shared tips about running a household and my mother discussed her hopes to go hunting in the warmer weather.

Dinner lasted for a couple of hours before we were finally all dismissed so that the men could retire to more comfortable quarters and discuss the more serious business of war. I knew I should bathe and retire to my room for the evening but instead I paced about the castle with Spot, taking him for a walk round the courtyard before I slipped into the stables to practice my dagger techniques on a bale of hay. I purposely avoided straying near any of the secret haunts Flynn and I had shared, once forbidden places to exchange our love they were now forgotten places of dust and memory. Three years and I still could not seek them out, not even for privacy. His golden locket remained close against my chest, an eternal reminder of our ruined love and the mage who had been taken from me so cruelly. Even when I lay beneath the sheets with Arl Howe I did not take it off, and though he would often look to it with scorn he did not comment on it.

I waited impatiently through the night for the men's meeting to end, sneaking into the corridor to see if they had departed before slinking away. Soon even Spot tired and I took him up to bed before returning back to the corridor in time to spy the men leaving. I waited in the shadows as they separated and headed to their quarters and hoped they would not notice me. Mercifully they did not, and once they had started on their way I was swift to hurry up to the corridor leading to Arl Howe's quarters so that I could intercept him. Luckily, Thomas' quarters were on the other side of the castle near Fergus', so father and son would have to separate.

I waited, anxious and eager, it had been two months since our last lustful encounter and my body was aching for the Arl's touch to satisfy it. I heard his footsteps soft upon the stone steps and looked on keenly as his form finally appeared. He paused and stared ahead sharply as he spied me, before a sigh escaped him and he started walking once more. "Spitfire," he greeted quietly, "still mucky I see, better things to do than bathe?"

I grinned up at him suggestively and retorted calmly, "I had hopes not to bathe alone."

I watched his mouth twitch as he tried to conceal his reaction to that. "I think my wife might notice such a lengthy absence," he said coolly.

"Well if you would rather not," I replied carelessly as I turned away from him, "I suppose I will just go to bed then and bathe in the morning." I grinned as I felt his hand upon my right shoulder, immediately halting me.

"Wait," he remarked, still quiet, though I heard the edge in his voice. He sighed again and his hand slipped away from my shoulder. "I...I don't know if we should continue this."

I turned to him with alarm, unable to conceal my wounded surprise. "Why not?" I asked sharply.

He looked uneasy for the first time and I was unnerved to see it, normally Rendon Howe was confident to the point of cocky, impassive and stern, it took a lot to shake him. "Because the darkspawn are coming?" I commented in disbelief. "That is the only thing that has changed here."

"War is a big change," he retorted stiffly as he folded his arms, "war creates opportunity and destroys what was once thought to be certain."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, certain that he was implying something. I could see it there in his silver eyes, an idea beginning to hatch, a plot he was unwilling to share.

He shook his head dismissively. "I would not involve you, your father means to keep you out of this affair and I will abide by his wishes if I can."

I regarded him with a deep eyed suspicion, knowing that he was alluding to something more than the darkspawn. "No, don't shut me out, not you," I said stubbornly, "you are the only one who is honest with me, the only one who reveals the ugly truth."

"Can I trust you with it?" he pondered aloud before having the grace to look ashamed as he realised he had said more than he meant to. "Artemis," he addressed me properly, his voice stern, "I do not want to offend you or spurn your company but this battle will make things complicated, things will have to change whether you will it or not."

"And until then?" I queried desperately. "There is a week until the battle," I reminded him.

He gave me a small smile and asked, "are you so eager for my company?"

I frowned, realising that he had the upper hand, as he had revealed too much so to had I. "I can go without it," I answered insolently.

He nodded and looked ahead to where the door to his room lay. "It is late," he murmured.

I knew then that it was a choice between pride and desire, whatever discussion had been made about the battle weighed heavily on the Arl and he could just as easily lie with his wife as he could with me. I swallowed down my ego and leaned forward to kiss him close, I had been lonely for two months, and with a battle approaching who knew how long I might have to be alone for after tonight. We broke and I took his hand and began to guide him away from his quarters and towards my own.


	3. Chapter 2

Playing with fire, I realised now that was exactly what I had been doing. Until today there had been no lasting effects from it, no consequences to be had but now was my last chance to ensure things stayed safe. Now was also my chance to take revenge upon my father. I had considered turning away Arl Howe and his talk of treachery, it had shocked me when he had confessed his plan and no matter how reasonable he had made it seem, it was still a betrayal of my family. He had insisted it would be as peaceful and bloodless as possible, a coup after father's soldiers left, all I had to do was let Arl Howe's army in and persuade my mother not to resist. Arl Howe would of course take care of father.

I was swayed into a decision at last just two days ago when a courier from the Tower of Mages had come bearing a letter for Lady Cousland. My father had intercepted it, read it and cursed myself and Flynn both before burning it before me as Ser Gilmore had held me back. I had screamed and howled and demanded to know the contents but it was to no avail. I knew the letter had to be from Flynn but what had he said, was he alright, was he in danger, was he leaving the Tower? I had begged father to at least tell me if he was well but he had turned angry, gave me a stinging slap and then banished me from the room. I had gone sobbing to mother and pleaded with her to get father to divulge the contents of the letter but she had only sighed and murmured how I had been grand without the mage and that his very name only served to cause trouble.

In grief and despair I had turned to Arl Howe, travelling to his castle with mother later that afternoon to dine with Lady Howe. Mother brought me as a means to keep me from father and distract me with Thomas, who she kept commenting was a much better match for me. I had turned to his father however the first chance we had and cried to him of Flynn's letter. His sympathy had been cold and brief but better than none and he had alluded back to his plot. Fuelled with anger and a fresh desire for revenge I had consented to help with his plan. If the only casualty was father I could live with it, it would be quick for him I was assured and no one would ever know of my involvement. Arl Howe promised that if his men were late to arrive for marching to Ostagar that father would send his men on with Fergus rather than delay, leaving our home vulnerable. He stated that all I would have to do was let them in at the dawn to take over, which he promised they would do without violence.

Today was the day of reckoning. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, not appropriate I thought for what was going to befall my home and I could not enjoy it. Arl Howe had just arrived to Castle Cousland to join up with father to go to Ostagar but he had come without his men, as planned though no one but I knew it of course. I stepped into the main hall in time to overhear Rendon's explanation for the delay.

"I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my own fault," Arl Rendon Howe remarked sincerely. I looked at him and wondered if he would really proceed with his plan. I did not know the full details of it, he had said it was best I did not, all I knew was my role in it. Only we Couslands knew where the key to open the main gate was, sealed up in a box in the treasury, only we could ask for it. The gate was a strong structure of iron and the only way in and out of our stately home, it was never left open and was always guarded. To open the gate one had to not only unlock it but then unlock the box in which the lever to pull the chain to hoist open the gate was set. If the gate itself was not unlocked one could pull the lever until they were blue in the face and it would do nothing. Equally, one would struggle to open the gate without the chain as it was such a tall, wide and heavy structure but Arl Howe assured me that with enough men it could be done.

"No, no," my father answered jovially. "The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!" I felt a degree of relief at his words, Fergus would be gone and safe then, protected by our men. I had insisted upon his and mother's safety of course but Fergus was the male heir and liable to take revenge so I was unsure that Arl Howe really would do everything to see him spared. It was a terrible gamble for me to take but once I heard that Fergus would be out of the way, as Arl Howe had predicted, I became more certain that it was the right thing I was doing. It had been my last turning point, I had vowed earlier that if Fergus was not sent ahead with father's men as Rendon had been certain he would be that I would not go through with the plan out of fear for my brother's life.

"True. Though we both had less grey in our hair then," Rendon jested back. "And we fought Orlesians, not... monsters."

Father laughed in retort and I felt a prickle of disgust creep up within me, how dare he feel happiness, he deserved never to laugh again. I realised coldly that soon he never would. "At least the smell will be the same," he answered with equal mirth.

They turned their attention on me, father with a familiar disapproval in his eyes. "Greetings Artemis," Arl Howe greeted me politely.

"Good afternoon Arl Howe," I retorted courteously, "is your family here?"

"Ohno, I left them in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south," he answered me calmly. "They do send their best wishes. My son Thomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time." I met his grey gaze with a curious stare as I wondered if he was taunting me or simply continuing his act for father.

"I would think Thomas a little young for me," I retorted teasingly.

"At any rate I summoned you for a reason," my father interrupted impatiently. I met his disapproving stare and waited patiently for him to continue. "While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle with your mother. I ask you to take a great responsibility. Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region."

I knew as well as he that he only granted me responsibility as he had no other choice, to pass me over for a ward would have been an insult and shown a weakness in the family and with Fergus going to battle with father there was only mother and I. "Very well," I answered coolly with a nod. Once I might have argued, insisted on joining them in battle to prove myself but the deal had been struck with Howe and I knew that father had as much chance of going to battle as I.

"I hope that in my time away you might prove yourself an adept leader in my stead," father addressed me grudgingly. I saw a faint spark in his bright blue eyes, even now for all our woes and fallouts he still clung to hope for me. I suddenly felt nauseous as guilt consumed me and found my eyes flickering to Arl Howe. He looked back firmly, giving nothing away.

"And what can I do with a handful of guards?" I demanded sarcastically.

"I trust you to do what is best," father answered sternly, frowning at my sarcasm. "In the meantime," he continued on when I gave no reply, "find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

"Where is Fergus?" I queried, glad of the distraction. I knew if I lingered then I might waver. He betrayed you three times, I reminded myself, he sent Flynn away from you, he killed your child and then he kept Flynn's letter from you, and it probably wasn't the first letter he stole.

"Upstairs in his chambers, no doubt spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson. Be a good lass and do as I've asked. We'll talk soon."

A good lass, no father I could not be that anymore, too much had gone between us. I nodded and hurried off to find Fergus. I stepped back out to cobbled stones bathed in sunshine and felt a stabbing pang of guilt flood through me. Would Fergus ever understand or forgive me if he knew what I was about to do? Of course not. I vowed never to allow my brother to know the truth and yet I wondered how long I could bear such secrecy when it was all done with. I swallowed hard before walking on, turning up towards the atrium, I would not go to Fergus until I was certain my emotions did not betray me on my face. I had never been much good at hiding my true thoughts from my brother and today I needed to otherwise he might become suspicious and insist on staying, thus endangering himself and perhaps making father suspicious enough to avoid whatever Lord Howe had planned for him.

Hearing the clang of armoured boots I glanced ahead to spy a breathless Ser Gilmore running towards me. One of my father's knights, he was eager to advance and prove himself and had high hopes of becoming a Grey Warden when rumours of one looking for a recruit had swept across Highever. Father had admitted he had had contact with one known as Duncan and was expecting him to arrive within the week, he suspected Duncan would know father was on his way to Ostagar tomorrow but had left instructions for mother and I to show him every courtesy should he arrive.

"There you are Lady Artemis," he greeted me as he halted; only just remembering my title as he composed himself. "I've been looking everywhere for you, your dog has gotten into the pantry and Nan is furious!"

I rolled my eyes impatiently though secretly relished this chance for a distraction. "I'm sure he's just hungry," I commented merrily.

Ser Gilmore frowned, his dark brown gaze showing a glimmer of scorn. He was a straight laced, handsome knight in his late twenties, he could have married any of the pretty young women in town and settled as a prosperous farmer or even continued as a profitable knight but his desire to climb the ranks of knighthood or join the glorious Wardens came before everything else. He was so obsessed with his career that I did not think he had ever even bedded a woman, not even the rosy cheeked maid Dina had been able to catch his eye despite her best efforts. "Be that as it may Nan is threatening to quit and your lady mother has instructed that I accompany you to the kitchen to sort it out."

I nodded wearily, unsurprised that mother had instructed Ser Gilmore to accompany me, she knew I could not fob him off and that unless the very ground swallowed him up he would stick close to me until the task was done such was his determination and obedient nature. "Alright Ser Gilmore, let's go then."

"My lady it's Roderick," he corrected me gently before we starting walking in the direction of the kitchen.

I nodded dismissively as we headed up a gently sloping path, passing a couple of father's guards who nodded to me respectively. It was not that I disliked Ser Gilmore, in truth I admired his loyalty though I pitied him for not having a more open mind, but we were not friends and I knew too little about him to be on a first name basis. He was too close to father for me to attempt even an acquaintance with him and I would not forget that it was he who had held me, ready for father's scolding slap.

As we neared the kitchen Nan's hysterical screams rang out along with the pleas of her elfin servants. I giggled, unable to help myself despite Ser Gilmore's scornful glance. The old woman had always been dramatic and threatened to leave over the most minor slights but she never did and we all knew she never would. Before she had become the cook Nan had been nanny to myself and Fergus before me, a nursemaid and then a teacher before Aldous took over. I was deeply fond of her but I could never admit it, I daren't let the woman think she had scored a victory over me.

I sighed before pushing open the wooden door into the kitchen where Nan stood in the middle of chaos. The kitchen was, I had to admit, a mess, a table and two chairs had been upturned, dishes lay shattered and cracked on the floor along with the contents of a flour bag, a smeared slab of butter that a paw had stepped in before leaving tracks all over the stone slabs. The two elf servants stood in the corner, wide eyed and nervous, shuddering each time Nan cursed. I grinned hearing the colourful words that escaped her; it wasn't often that Nan practised such abusive language. "If I can't get into that larder, I'll skin both of you useless elves, I swear it!" she shrieked.

"Calm down Nan," Ser Gilmore said as he dared to take a step towards her, earning a frosty glower in return. "I..." The knight's resolve wavered slightly under the iron woman's formidable stance. "I brought the Lady Artemis," he finished weakly.

Strands of her greying brown bun had tumbled about her face in disarray and her brow was more wrinkled than usual. She turned on me with a fierce, grey glare and snarled, "sort out that mutt of yours or I will quit!"

"That's alright," I answered her calmly, "I'm sure we can get another cook."

"Oh the insolence!" she snapped as she threw her hands up in the air in despair. "Years of service and this is how I'm repaid!"

"Nan she's just joking," Ser Gilmore spoke up hastily as he looked at her frantically. "Please, don't quit!"

"I will if that hound is not removed from my kitchen!" she vowed.

I turned to the culprit who was at the pantry door clawing at it frantically, his coat was dusted in flour and splashes of broth shone in patches on his dark brown-grey coat. "Spot come here," I commanded.

He turned to me in surprise and gave a bark before turning back to the pantry with a whine. I looked at him curiously and started to walk up to the pantry, Spot never disobeyed me without good reason.

"Look at that, he won't even obey his own mistress," Nan scorned.

"He senses something," I informed her. I pushed open the stiff door with a grunt and several shoves and was greeted by the sight of seven giant red eyed and sharp toothed rats feasting themselves on the dried meat and vegetables within. "Great," I murmured sardonically as I grasped the nearest thing, a broomstick, and brandished it fearlessly.

"Rats!" I heard the elf maid cry out in alarm.

The first one sprung for me with a snarl and I hit it a solid whack in the face with the broom, but it was only enough to annoy it. "To battle with rodents then," Ser Gilmore remarked as he joined me with his sword.

Spot barked triumphantly before springing on one with a snarl. He grabbed it by its neck and swung it back and forth violently until its neck snapped in two. I swung my broom at two more before lifting it and snapping the end of it off on my boot giving me a jagged, wooden point. I sank it into one rat's side with a grimace; the sickening squelch and the squeal that followed were unpleasant and satisfactory at the same time. I yanked the point out and turned to another rat foe, staggering back to avoid getting bit on the leg before stabbing it through its right eye.

It was a quick battle in the end and the seven rodents proved no match for my broom, Ser Gilmore's sword, which did most of the killing, and Spot's claws and teeth. "Giant rats?" Ser Gilmore remarked in puzzlement as he halted at last and sheathed his bloodstained blade. "It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell."

"Yes, the adventure of saving the kitchen pantry," I retorted sarcastically before I dropped the useless broom and led the way back out to the kitchen where the elves continued to stand quivering whilst Nan looked at us with annoyance.

"Seven giant rats," I explained, my grin widening as the female elf let out a gasp of horror, "thankfully dead now. Of course we might never have known if not for Spot," I said with a pointed look at my faithful hound who barked and wagged his tail happily.

"Alright," Nan muttered, "I suppose he was only trying to help though I'm sure you have all made a fine mess in there to be cleaned and me with a dinner to make for Lord Howe and your mother's guests and your family."

"It could have been worse," I informed her.

Spot gave an agreeing bark prompting Nan to look his way with a hint of guilt. "Alright, alright," she snapped with another wild wave of her hands, "you can have some chicken strips." She turned to the table, seizing two long strips of cooked chicken from a plate on it and handing them to Spot. He took them in two quick, slobbery bites and gave a happy bark. "Now don't say Nan doesn't give you anything," she said as she stood up and wiped her hands on her apron. She turned to her servants with a fresh glare and snarled, "you two back to work, this kitchen won't clean itself!"

"Yes mistress," the male stammered out.

I turned to Ser Gilmore with a small smile and said, "well Ser Gilmore, duty done, be at ease."

"Yes Lady Artemis," he retorted, the disapproval still clear in his brown gaze.

"Spot come on," I urged my hound before leading the way out of the kitchen and back to the warm day. My spirits lifted, I headed back in the direction of the atrium and found my mother there entertaining three guests. They stood in the simple courtyard, a game of chess abandoned to their right as they had gotten caught up in gossiping. I recognised the plain Lady Landra, a notorious wine drinker and wife to Bann Loren she was my mother's closest friend though I could not understand why. I had seen the woman drunk so many times I found her a tiresome and foolish embarrassment and wondered if her marriage to Bann Loren had been an arranged one, it was doubtful that he had taken on such a burden willingly. The male with her was her son Dairren, a witty and charming man, but the shy blonde elf standing beside him was unknown to me.

"And there is my lovely daughter," my mother remarked happily, "with her ever mischievous hound. Can I assume the matter of Nan and the pantry has been resolved?"

I nodded and retorted, "yes mother, regretfully Nan will still be with us for another few years."

She gave a slight frown and Dairren failed to suppress a chuckle, prompting me to look his way with amusement. He was a tall, toned youth with a carefully kept, short crop of dark auburn hair, milky white skin and a confident expression on a face that would have been plain if not for his prominent cheekbones and the sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

"Nan is good to this family," mother remarked calmly before turning her attention back to Lady Landra. "Pup do you remember Lady Landra?"

I folded my arms and retorted with feigned puzzlement, "weren't you the one who got drunk at the spring salon?"

She let out a shameless giggle and nodded in response. "Yes, I'm afraid I don't remember much of that delightful gathering but I know it was fun," she replied merrily.

"As you can see my daughter has none of my tact," my mother smoothed over my insult.

Lady Landra nodded before gesturing towards the other pair with one hand. "Didn't I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son Dairren?"

"And made a very poor case for it I might add," the auburn haired man answered.

"You remember my son, Dairren?" Lady Landra remarked. "He's not married yet either."

"Don't listen to her," Dairren remarked in his ever seductive and charming voice. "It's good to see you again my lady. You're looking as beautiful as ever," he added politely. Unlike his mother he had some tact choosing a courteous manner over a boldly flirtatious one. I knew it was part of his plan, Dairren was an intelligent man, whilst he did not have Arl Howe's gift for plotting, he had a shrewd enough mind. He thought if he played interested but not flattering to the point of harassment that he might garner not just my attention but more importantly my parents' and thus might earn a noble title for himself.

"My thanks," I remarked stiffly with a nod. His looks were not to my taste and I had no desire to burden myself with a marriage to him but he was nice enough to me so I would not be rude in my attempts to rebuff him.

"And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona," Lady Landra introduced the elf at last. "Say something dear."

She stepped forward with a coy, emerald eyed stare. She was beautiful to look at with soft, pale golden hair that hung straight with two plaits for bangs and two more plaits clipped back to add detail to the otherwise simple style. Her elfin features were pretty and innocent, her skin smooth and alabaster and almost glowing under the sun. She wore a simple but flattering top, a pale gold with amber stones set above the breasts and at the cuffs with a collar of amber to match, and a black and crimson peasant styled skirt that clung to her small hips and hung down to her ankles.

"It is a great pleasure my lady," she spoke softly with a small smile. "You are as pretty as your mother describes."

I wondered the reasoning behind her flattery, if she was merely being polite or perhaps being sincere. I had never regarded myself as a great beauty, I kept my figure toned thanks to my secret sword practicing, walking into the town on a daily basis, taking Spot on runs about the countryside, and having regular dalliances with the blacksmith's apprentice and Arl Howe when I could manage it. Whilst I was tall like all the Couslands with mother's long legs I was also cursed with wide hips, small breasts, a pointed chin and a forgettable face. My hair was lank and dark, too thin and straight to be curled, my skin fair, suffering from dry patches at my cheeks and brow and my eyes were the same bright blue as my father's, which made me loathe them as my worst feature.

"You would think that it would make it easier to make a match for her," mother commented woefully, "not more difficult."

"Perhaps your daughter simply has a mind of her own your Ladyship," Dairren continued to speak in honeyed tones. "You should be proud."

"Proud doesn't get me any more grandchildren," my mother complained. She paused and looked at me regretfully as she realised the error of her words, which had stung me to my core. There could have been a grandchild, a wonderful child born of love and not a forced unity. "Although Oren is plenty for now," she said quickly.

"I think perhaps I shall rest now my dear," Lady Landra spoke up as she stifled a yawn. "Dairren, I shall see you and Iona at supper," she added to her son with a nod.

"Perhaps we shall retire to the study for now," he retorted. "It was nice seeing you again Lady Artemis," he added with a smile.

"You too," I retorted numbly. "I will go find Fergus." I hurried from them, walking quickly, forcing myself not to run. Spot followed close by, giving a couple of worried whines. He could sense my change in mood and knew that I was distraught. I felt my palms begin to sweat as we neared the family quarters where Fergus would be, in his room with his wife and son. I remembered the pain of losing my child, how the blood had gushed from me and my body had been seized with spasms and all I could feel was guilt to Flynn and a sense that I had failed him by not bringing his child into the world.

I tensed as I entered into the private hall upstairs at the top of the castle, where all our rooms lay. The Teyrn's was the largest at the back of the floor whilst mine and Fergus' were opposite each other, our rooms since childhood. I paused outside his doorway, reluctant to go in and tell him the news, that he had to leave without father. I knocked on the door and heard my brother call out to me to come in. I opened the door and stepped in; he was kneeling before Oren, battling him with a mock wooden sword. Oriana stood near, tense with disapproval, her eyes narrowing as she spied Spot following me in.

"Greetings sister," Fergus commented cheerfully as he stood upright and grinned at me. "Oh, you don't look happy," he stated as he picked up on the grief in my eyes.

"I...I have bad news," I said as I tried hard to banish my sorrow. "Arl Howe's troops are delayed, father wants you to leave today with the troops and go on ahead to Ostagar without him."

"Well I knew I was leaving today," Fergus replied calmly, "it's a pity father has to catch up but it's not terrible news sis there's no need to look so upset. Is there something else troubling you?"

I shook my head and lied, "no, I just had to listen to Lady Landra's ramblings about Dairren and I marrying that's all."

"It would be a fine match," Oriana gushed. My sister-in-law was so eager for me to be wed and tied to a man so that my pleasure seeking exercises with unmarried men would stop that she did not care if I married a homeless peasant.

"I think not," I retorted coolly.

Fergus laughed and stepped towards me. "Always so stubborn about marriage," he teased before ruffling my hair playfully. "Don't leave it until you're an old maid," he jested.

"Maybe I'd prefer to be an unwed old maid," I answered defensively.

"Shall we send you to a cloister then?" he continued to joke.

"That might be a good idea," Oriana murmured under her breath.

"Bad enough having to listen to fairytales about the Maker from Mother Mallol but to hear them daily from a building full of sisters, I'd rather die!" I replied hotly.

Oriana gasped and snapped, "if you would please not be so blasphemous before Oren, he is impressionable."

"What's im..imp...impressionable?" Oren queried innocently.

I gave him a small smile, despite his mother's influence he still managed to be an endearing child and I adored him.

Fergus chucked. "It means you let people impress you with their ideas," he tried to simplify the word. "Anyway, I suppose I had better get ready to march then, I will see you for a proper farewell in the main hall sis."

I nodded sombrely before exiting out of the room. I drifted slowly back to the hall and bumped into Arl Howe. I met his stare calmly and felt an urge to kiss him begin to bud in me, when I leaned forward to do just that however he rejected my advances by leaning back and out of the way. Hurt and angry I looked at him moodily and waited for an explanation.

"It wouldn't be wise to continue this," he said quietly, "otherwise later suspicion might fall on you."

It made sense and yet it sounded like an excuse to me. "When will we continue it then?" I queried frostily. I was tired of being lonely in bed and the thought of Flynn made me eager for a companion, even just a temporary one to hold me and make me feel pleasure, it would never be him but I could pretend.

"I...I think it would best," he replied carefully, "to discuss that once our current business is dealt with."

I felt my gaze harden and knew that I could not stand to have my pride wounded by him. "Well that's alright," I answered dismissively, "I have a companion for my bed tonight anyway and I think they will prove quite satisfactory."

I watched with delight as a flash of anger filled his grey eyes and his lip curdled slightly. He struggled for a moment to compose himself before quipping coldly, "who?"

I knew I could have told him it was none of his business but I wanted to annoy him and so I decided to go with an unexpected response, a choice that I knew would enrage him. "Lady Landra's son, Dairren." It was risky but after tonight I would have nothing for Dairren to gain in marriage and so he would not try to argue that our dalliance should lead to a wedding. I made up my mind there and then that I would go to the study and arrange an evening liaison with Dairren both to spite Howe and ensure that I did not have to spend another night alone in my bed.

"Well do enjoy that Lady Cousland," Arl Howe answered me bitingly before walking on.


	4. Chapter 3

I awoke with a moan to the sound of barking. "Spot shut up," I grumbled as I turned over in bed with a tired groan. My Mabari's barks grew louder and more forceful in response and I felt Dairren give me a nudge. I opened one eye blearily and sat up with a curse as the barking continued. "Knock it off Spot!" I scorned as I pushed back some of tangled air and stifled a yawn. I knew it still had to be late, there was no light trickling in under my blue curtains and I felt so heavy and groggy I was certain I had only drifted off an hour ago.

"He's been barking for a while," Dairren commented wearily.

I glanced his way; he was sitting on the edge of the bed looking to the door with mild annoyance. Spot pawed at it frantically before looking back at me and giving another angry bark. "Maybe he needs to do his business," Dairren murmured. He stood up and headed to the door, his movements sluggish with sleep.

"No," I said dumbly, still half-asleep and confused. "He doesn't do that." Wrong, everything felt wrong but I was so tired and puzzled that I could not react to it quick enough.

Dairren looked back at me with a faint smile that made his ordinary face seem a bit brighter and more beguiling, before reaching out to the iron door handle and pressing it down. He opened the door and I heard a twang. A gargled yell escaped the squire and I watched in shock as his hand slackened on the door frame and he staggered back, his head turning up and back to me. I met his horrified eyes before they rolled back in his skull and he slumped back to the floor, hitting it with a heavy bang. I could nothing but stare in shock at the bloody arrow sticking out of his throat as I wondered where it could have from.

Death. So sudden and quick, I had rarely seen its nonjudgmental touch and felt it only once when my baby had been taken from me in a wash of blood and almost taken me with it. He was gone; in one smooth and violent motion Dairren was gone.

"In here!"

I saw Spot lunge forward into the hall with a snarl and heard several yelps and cries follow before a soldier poked his head into the room. He was armed, a bloodstained sword in one hand and a battered shield in the other. The sight of the emblem on his shield turned my blood cold; it was the bear of the Howe family. Why were they here? It was too early, they were meant to come at dawn!

"Well, well, were you waiting for me?" the soldier leered at me as he lowered his weapons slightly.

I was naked, only just concealed from the waist down by the wrinkled red quilt of my bed. I looked back at him, still frozen in shock and loathing myself for my inability to react and move! Dairren was on the floor; I glanced sideways at him and tensed at the sight of the blood dripping down either side of his throat to congeal on the floor. He was only twenty-six, just four years older than me and already his life was ended. I swallowed hard and turned in a hurry to the dagger I hid beneath my pillow, it had seemed an unnecessary precaution and yet I always slept better knowing it was there. It was a gift from Arl Howe for my twenty-first, kept in an ornate case of red leather with gold swirls on it; it was an elven creation with a hilt of jade and a sharp silver blade. I pulled it out of its case and rolled just in time to avoid the guard's shield slamming down on me.

I jumped upright, putting the bed between us as I looked quickly for a weak spot. His throat was the only exposed bit of flesh I could see, everything else protected by armour. He was taller than I, somewhere in his thirties and a lanky fellow who was quick but, judging from the way his eyes lingered below my chin, easily distracted. I could hear yells from outside along with several fearsome growls; Spot was still fighting along with poor servants who I could hear simultaneously begging for mercy and crying out in pain. I had only a little time before another guard decided to come and join his partner in my room and all was lost.

I lowered my dagger and placed it behind my back. "Please," I pleaded, doing my best to look helpless, which was not hard given I was almost defenceless, almost. "I won't struggle; I just don't want to die."

He leered at me as I had hoped he would, his beady, brown eyes lingering on my chest before he took a bold step towards me. "Well if you're good you won't have to," he answered me in a deep growl, "my lord doesn't wish it but," he raised his sword threateningly, "accidents do happen."

Arl Howe didn't wish for my death then? An order, I filled with a bitter confusion at that thought, he had betrayed me but not completely, why? Was I to be the only victim spared and to what end? A noble hostage? A way to legitimately claim the land when the bloodshed was done? I felt sick with revulsion for both Rendon and myself, how could I have consented to this? I thought of my father and reminded myself of what I had desired, his end, even now in the brink of chaos and death I could not help but hope that he had suffered as I, Flynn and our unborn child had.

"I will be good," I murmured, forcing sweetness into my voice and feigning a shudder. When I saw his smile widen it was hard to hide my own, so fear aroused him as I had expected, the man was a disgusting leech through and through. I wondered and worried over how much time we had left before his allies finally joined him out of curiosity or worry.

He dropped his shield with a reckless clatter, his beady eyes never leaving me as he then made the mistake of sheathing his sword. Either he had not seen the dagger I had grabbed or he was stupid enough to think I could do nothing with it. Now he would learn. I moved as swiftly as I could, never hesitating, plunging forward with the dagger raised, up and up I pressed it, deep into his supple throat. I jerked it hard to the right and was spattered with his fresh carmine blood. He pushed me back too late with a gargled cry and I ran to the door and slammed it closed.

I moved as quickly as I could, my heart was pounding like thunder in my ears, my vision was tinged in red and my breaths were irregular, each sending a fresh pang through my chest. I grabbed a tunic from my wardrobe and flung it on, before tugging on two boots and turning back to the dying guard as I heard a bang on the door. My time was up. He had fallen to his back, a small mercy since I doubted I would have the strength to roll him over in his armour. I put my dagger through the brown, leather belt about my tunic and yanked out the gargling fool's sword as the door was kicked in.

With wild eyes I met my foe with the sword clutched in both my hands, it was all I could to keep it upright it was so heavy and I knew if not for Arl Howe's training I would not stand a chance wielding it. The guard who came through looked to me at first in surprise before he spotted his dead friend, then his green eyes filled with anger as he let out a yell of rage and charged at me with an axe raised high.

I met the blade with my own and the force almost knocked me off my feet as both my arms quivered and throbbed with the impact. I ducked to avoid the next blow before parrying back, my sword smacking against his chest plate uselessly. I looked for his weakness; it was the same as his companions, a flaw in their armour. I ducked again to avoid the axe, feigned to the left and then doubled back to the right and stabbed up. It was messy this time and not deep enough for him to drop immediately. I tugged the sword out of his throat with effort and turned away from him.

I fled out the open door into a hallway stained with blood and littered with the corpses of our poor defenceless servants. I saw my mother finishing off a guard just outside her bedroom door and I hurried to her as she tugged out her sword from his throat. Better prepared than I, she was in her tailor made, studded, leather armour that had been a gift from father five years ago for her birthday. She looked like a formidable warrior, a true battle maiden as she often called herself, and I felt hope at the sight of her. She was strong and tough; surely together we could both survive this madness.

Spot stood near her, bloodstained but uninjured, his ears back and his lip curled up in a snarl.

"Darling," she cried out to me in relief, her steel eyes softening a little, "are you hurt?"

I looked back to her with equal relief and shook my head numbly. She was better armed than I too, sword in one hand, bow and arrows at her back and ready for use. "I'm fine," I forced myself to answer her, "but...Dairren...they killed him."

"What?" At first she was puzzled as she wondered how I could know that before she quickly gathered that I had taken him to my bed. "Landra's poor son, but why?" she queried with an aghast expression. "A scream woke me up," she explained, her eyes still wide with disbelief, "and I realised there were men in the hall so I barred the door. Did you see their shields? Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?"

"I don't know," it was a half-lie on my part; I had expected his men but I had expected them to come peacefully in the wake of father's death and subdue the castle without force during the dawn.

"You don't think Howe's men were delayed...on purpose?" my mother demanded in horror. "That bastard! I'll cut his lying throat myself!"

Another wave of guilt driven nausea filled me and I forced myself to swallow it down. All was not lost yet, mother and I were alive, so his plan had happened earlier than planned and more violently, had the men simply arrived quicker than expected alerting someone to the ruse and forcing Howe to act? I had to believe that was it and that everything else between us still stood.

"Have you seen your father?" mother queried anxiously. "He never came to bed!"

"No," I answered truthfully, "I've been in my room."

"We must find him!" she snapped, losing her composure to worry. Suddenly she turned in the direction of Fergus' room with alarm as another thought filled her. "Andraste's mercy!" she gasped. "What if the soldiers went into your brother's room first?"

They couldn't have, Arl Howe would surely not have permitted it but...I remembered the guard in my room telling me how Arl Howe had demanded I was spared and he had taunted me by saying accidents could happen. Perhaps the soldiers had decided to ignore the details of their master's orders or worse; perhaps he had never given any with regards to Oriana and Oren, their lives never crossing his mind.

"Quickly!" I retorted as I turned to Fergus' door as my heart started pounding again. Oren was so young surely they wouldn't have, he was no threat! I led the way into his room and halted as my body turned to ice.

"No!" mother screamed out in horror.

Spot let out a loud whine and lowered his head to the ground in sorrow.

Two crumpled bodies lay still on the floor, their night robes stained a reddish-brown with their drying blood. Oren, little, dearest Oren, my only nephew, the youngest of the family, the boy who wanted to be a knight, was gone. The wound in his stomach was deep and wide, half-hidden by the angle at which his body had collapsed; it ruined the image that he might have been sleeping. His angelic face was untouched, his eyes closed at if in slumber, it was just wrong!

"My little Oren!" mother continued to lament. "Butchered, by the Maker why? What manner of fiend slaughters innocents?" she sobbed as her grief consumed her.

I felt tears prick at my own eyes as I finally tore my gaze from poor Oren and turned to his fallen mother. She had been stabbed four times and her face was soaked with blood, there was no pretending with her, Oriana's fate had been a brutal one. I wondered in despair if I could have prevented this, was this really worth revenge on father? If I had swayed Howe somehow, talked him out of it, or... Or what? I would never have betrayed him to father, I could not have bared that and was this really his fault? He must have forgotten Fergus' wife and child, assumed his guards would take them as hostages rather than...this.

"Howe is not even taking hostages!" mother cried out as she sank down beside Oren and reached out one gloved hand to tenderly stroke his pallid brow. "He means to kill all of us!" She shook her head in despair and choked out, "oh poor Fergus..." before standing up suddenly and looking to me with a fresh anger. "Let's go," she snapped, "I don't want to see this!"

I nodded slowly as the tears trickled down my face at last before I followed her out, pausing to close the door behind me. Rest in peace now little Oren, I thought, may you and your mother find love and hope if you can. I was not in a believer in the Maker and I did not think there was anything for us in death but perhaps I was wrong, and for Oren's sake I hoped I was.

"Downstairs," mother commanded, "we must find your father!"

I followed after her, marvelling as she swiftly felled two of Howe's men on the stone stairs with her arrows. We exited out of the family tower and found our home ablaze, the smoke was so thick in the air it blotted out the stars, it was black in the night and filled the sky with a burning odour. The flames seemed to engulf the castle, growing higher and higher, the fire an angry roar as it licked at our walls with tongues of burning carmine and amber.

"What has he done?" my mother rasped in horror as she paused to take in the scene.

How had it come to this? It was meant to be peaceful; he had wanted Castle Cousland, why destroy it? I shuddered as I wondered for the first time if I had underestimated his hatred for my father, too caught up in my own selfish hate. Did Arl Howe despise father so much that he would not take what he had but destroy it instead so that no one could have it? Was father watching? Did Rendon have him somewhere, forcing him to look on as his home burned?

Spot let out a low growl as four men stepped out from the shadows, armed and ready for battle. Mother did not give them a chance; she notched an arrow to her bow and fired, striking one in the middle of his forehead, felling him in an instance. I braced myself as one ran to us in anger, and met his sword with my own. Clang! Clang! I gritted my teeth and tried to steady myself against the blows but found myself stumbling back and only just avoiding falling to the ground. I swung back but my blade went wild, missing every time. A yelp of pain escaped me as his sword cut a light wound down my left arm.

Spot jumped with a fearsome bark, forcing the man to the ground with his weight and strength. He wasted no time in taking advantage, sinking his powerful jaws deep into the man's throat. I turned to another with my sword as mother fought back the fourth with her own sword, beating him hard and striking several blows. I rushed at my opponent with a scream, trying to shock him but he was ready for me and met my sword with his own, fighting me back with ease. These were seasoned soldiers, I was just a young woman trained by stable boys and a reluctant Arl who had had only a little time to humour me with lessons.

The sweat was dripping down me and a cut above my eyebrow was seeping down into my right eye and blinding my vision. I staggered to the left and gave a cry as the flat side of a sword smacked hard into my ribs and winded me. I was saved by my mother's intervention as she plunged her blade into the side of the guard's neck, ending his life quickly. As he fell to the ground she halted with a pant and looked at me with a determined grimace.

"We can do this darling," she said firmly, "we can fight them back."

I looked back at her confidently, believing for a moment that we could both still come out of this unscathed. It was a foolish notion. I heard the axe whistle through the air before I saw it, it was a blur slicing through the air, an oddity I did not pick up on until it was too late. Mother's head was severed cleanly from her body without warning, sent tumbling through the air in one unexpected blow.

I watched, stunned, as her body dropped to its knees, twitched twice and then crumpled awkwardly to the left. Just like that, one lucky, dirty strike and my beloved mother was gone. My vision blurred, my entire body tingled and my head began to pound. I tried to roll my eyes up to face her attacker but I couldn't, all I could see was her mutilated form. Proud, bold and brave mother killed by a coward from behind, it was no way for a battle maiden to go. The vomit rushed out of me in one watery mouthful that spattered onto the cobblestones before me. I doubled over as the last of it came up, choking and gasping as I clutched at my knees with both hands. My eyesight, half-ruined with blood, flickered to black and I hit the ground in shock and defeat.

"Leave her." That voice, I knew that voice.

I wanted to react to it, to turn and face him, to demand why but I couldn't, my body was numb, my head was still pounding and all I wanted to do was slip away and forget everything. This was just a nightmare, it had to be, mother, Oren and Oriana, they couldn't be dead, it wasn't meant to be this way. This was just a bad dream, I was still in bed with Dairren, of course I was, it wasn't going to be a bloody coup in the night, I was imagining it, picturing the worst. I had to be.

* * *

I awoke to find myself wrapped in soft sheets, safe and warm, and dared to think for a moment that I had suffered a nightmare. I rolled over and felt a wince as my left arm jolted in pain and I opened my eyes and realised I was alone in a strange bed. Confused and alarmed I pushed myself upright with a grunt and took in my surroundings. It was large room with stone walls with wooden columns on them holding up wooden beams, and a polished wooden floor with a large bearskin rug over it, lying between the end of the bed and the room's only door.

It was a simple bedroom, practical rather than decorative in true Ferelden fashion with a double bed of oak that I currently occupied, a small wardrobe against the left wall and a vanity table beside it with a dusty mirror on it and one lone hairbrush abandoned before it. I glanced down at myself, my wounds had been bandaged, my weapons taken though Flynn's locket remained, and I had been changed into nightdress of pale blue silk with an embroidered white, pearl studded trim. The nightdress was a garish garment though gentle against my skin and flattering to my figure, not so fancy that I thought it was Orlesian, but perhaps Antivan in origin. I knew only that it was not a garment of mine and that in my unconsciousness someone had stripped and dressed me. I shuddered at the thought, tensing when I heard the door handle being pushed down. I looked warily to see who would enter and cursed my lack of a weapon.

Rage filled me before I could help it as Arl Howe stepped into the room alone dressed in a nobleman's attire fitting for an Arl. "You bastard!" I shrieked at him as he shut the door, halting before it impassively. "You bastard! You bastard!" I wrung my hands out in despair as I felt tears of anger burning in my eyes. I wanted to hurt him but I had nothing to do it with.

He approached my bed at a calm pace, his dark grey eyes hard, stern even as if he disapproved of my yelling. How dare he, he deserved worse! He stopped at the side of the bed and addressed me in a low voice, "I am sorry."

I leaned up and struck him hard in the face with my hand putting as much force as I could into the gesture. He did not even react to the slap but was quick to restrain my hands before I could do it again; giving my wrists I shake when I attempted to pull free of him. "You betrayed me!" I snarled as I glowered up at him. "My family was butchered! My mother..." I bowed my head in a tremble as I recalled her cruel fate. Over and over the image of her swift beheading played through my mind causing my stomach to fill with bile.

"Eleanor," he murmured softly, almost regretfully, "I did not wish for her death."

"Liar!" I hissed out hatefully as I swallowed down a sob.

"I killed the man who murdered her," he assured me coldly as he lowered my hands down to my chest and continued to grasp them tight.

"Convenient," I snarled at him mockingly, "and the men who killed Oren and Oriana, did you kill them too?"

"I would not think you would mourn Oriana," he retorted sharply.

I turned back up to him in outrage and snapped back, "I did not wish her dead! Why did you murder everyone?" I demanded. "Why did you burn my home?" I shook as another sob tried to escape me and failed, he would not have my tears!

At last he released my hands but when he attempted to reach out to stroke my dark hair I drew back from him instinctively with a glare. "Spitfire," he said quietly, "warfare is never so simple. If it could have been a bloodless coup then I would have had it so but your father and his men would not have. My men came earlier than planned and your father..." Rendon's face became ugly and he turned away from me. "Well your father was provoking me anyway," he said darkly.

"How?" I croaked. "And what did you do to him?"

He turned back to face me once more with a small, cold smile. "He reminded me of everything he had that I did not, we fought in the same battle you know, side by side, we were both loyal to King Maric, I gave the king everything as my uncle had before me but I was only to be titled Arl whilst you father continued to be one of only two Teyrns. Why a difference? There was none between us during the rebellion yet he had the bigger domain, the titles, the lands, the people's devotion and...Eleanor." He sighed and for a moment I saw sorrow in his eyes mixed with the hate. I thought our hate shared but now I realised his had been around for far longer and ran far deeper.

"My mother?" I queried in surprise.

"You have her looks," he murmured as he caught my stare and held it with his own penetrating gaze, I saw the lust building in his grey irises and for the first time it frightened me. "I knew her before she met your father," he mused. "I had thought to make her my wife once but her father wouldn't allow her to marry the son of a traitor." His expression curdled and his lips turned down into a moody scowl.

I swallowed hard as I wondered if Rendon had ever looked at me and saw me for me or if he had been using me as a substitute for someone else as I had been doing with him. "What did you do to father?" I queried firmly, hardening my own stare and trying to appear angry once more instead of uneasy.

He reached out to me with one hand again, pushing back a stray lock of hair. His hand paused against my cheek, warm to the touch, as he said tranquilly, "I took his key to let my guards in and then I made him watch his home burn. I told him I would personally gut every member of his family," he added as he pressed one finger against my nose and ran it down it, causing a shudder to escape me. "After that I told him that even his wayward pup wanted him as dead as I did, that you had never forgiven him for the mage and that you knew he had killed your child and then I cut him deep, in the stomach, it's the most painful way to die you know and one of the slowest."

I jerked away from him, sucking in a deep breath as I looked at the wooden floor and tried to steady my nerves and swallow down the vomit building within me. I felt dizzy, my skin was beginning to sweat and my head was throbbing. This was all my fault, Arl Howe had gone too far and I had let him. The worst thing of all was that I was pleased to hear of how father had suffered and I hated myself for it.

"It was what you wanted," Rendon reminded me coldly as his hand reached lower this time, fingering the cold, gold chain that hung around my neck and down under my tunic, "revenge for the mage and your child. He sent the mage to the Circle, condemning him as a maleficar, that's a fate worse than death; maybe the templars spared him as an Apostate to be closely guarded and retrained but maybe they turned him into a Tranquil."

"Tranquil?" I echoed as I turned my gaze back up to the Arl. I did not know the word.

He nodded sombrely as he continued to wrap the chain about his finger. "A mage without magic or emotions," he explained bluntly. "I do not know the details, only that they are unnerving, soulless things better dead."

I shook my head in disbelief, Flynn could not be like that, no, he had written a letter to me, he was not mindless!

Arl Howe released the chain at last and said fiercely, "that is what your father may have condemned your mage to so tell me he did not deserve to die! To bleed as his home burned and cry as his men fell! If he was everything the king thought, he would not have fallen so easily!"

I shrank back from the Arl as his spittle struck my face only to have him grab me by the throat and yank me back. "Tell me!" he snarled in my face. "He thought the Cousland name better than mine and so did the king, they both damned me for my father's treachery and looked down on me, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how hard I bled for this land it wasn't enough, your father was always better and I was forever tainted with my father's betrayal. Teyrn Bryce Cousland, so noble and perfect, and yet behind closed doors he betrayed his own daughter and wed his son for money. Another petty insult to me, his most loyal friend," he ranted as his eyes seemed to fill with fire, "we could have been united, his son and my daughter, but the daughter of a Howe was not good enough for the Cousland heir, no more than I was for your mother."

His grip on my throat tightened and I found myself choking and trying to pull free as his nails dug into my skin. I reached up to his arm with both my hands but he swatted them away with his other hand and pushed me back onto the bed. At last he released my throat, only to push down on my chest with one hand, pinning to the bed as he leaned over me. "He spurned me, side by side we fought at White River, he would have died if not for me, I saved his life more than once there and yet he mocked me by wedding his son to an Antivan bitch!"

I looked up at him in horror and realised coldly that he had meant for Oriana to be killed, a hatred for her being wed to Fergus instead of Delilah had evidently driven him to give the order, but why Oren too? I felt tears fill my eyes anew and tried to blink them back. His gaze softened at last as he looked down on me and some of the fire in it faded away. "He deserved every minute he suffered," he growled out, "and you know it and you wanted it. I spared you the worst of it spitfire, you did not have to plunge the sword into him, you did not even have to dirty your hands in the end, I opened the gate with his key, you are blameless and alive. I have done all that I can for you, do you not see that?"

"Blameless?" I retorted harshly. "No, I am not blameless. Yes," I agreed savagely as the tears spilled down my cheeks at last, "he did deserve to die but not mother, not Oriana or Oren or all the people in my home, Nan and Aldous, they're all dead, aren't they? Why? You could have waited; stuck to the plan...you promised me it would be peaceful."

"I promised you what you wanted to hear, you are young and naive to warfare, you wanted your father's head and yet you expected everything to continue as normal after that was done. You think your mother or brother would ever forgive you for that? Do you honestly think your father's men would have stood idly by after his head had rolled? You are a silly girl Artemis."

He was right and part of me despised him for it, yet I knew my anger was unfair, I had willingly allied myself to him, my naivety to what would happen was my own fault. "You're right," I agreed quietly.

Rendon nodded and satisfied with my response he released me and stood upright once more. I sat up and reached one hand up to my still sore throat, rubbing at it briefly to ease the pain. He looked slightly apologetic as he watched me but said nothing. "Where am I?" I queried frankly.

"My home, Vigil's Keep," he replied bluntly.

In the Arl of Amaranthine then, to the east of my own fallen home. "And what happens now?" I queried.

"You stay here and recover," he answered calmly, "take some time to come to terms with what has happened."

I nodded numbly as I wondered if I could ever come to terms with that. What would become of me? What would become of Highever and the Couslands? What would Fergus think? I hoped that he stayed safe wherever he was and wondered if I could ever face him again knowing the role I had played in our family's downfall.


	5. Chapter 4

I was awakened before the dawn to a cold, bleak morning by a pale faced Tomas who entered the room nervously, clutching a familiar sword and shield. He blushed slightly as I looked at him in surprise. I had heard him at the door and awoken with alarm, half thinking myself back at Highever, and looked for Spot to see why he had not barked. I filled with a pang of pain as I remembered my beloved Mabari was no more, struck down by a soldier attempting to defend himself when Spot had tried to aggressively defend me. Rendon had informed me that Spot had injured three of his men in the process and that despite his orders for Spot to be subdued my hound was just too much for them and a guard had stabbed him in a panic. Rendon had then, after I had slapped him in a rage and raked my nails down his cheeks, assured me that Spot had gone quickly and nobly. I had demanded to be left alone to cry my grief and guilt away but Rendon had refused to leave and after an hour of cursing at him, in the end, to my disgust, I had submitted to his embrace, preferring his stiff comforting to none at all.

"I...I'm sorry to disturb you," Thomas remarked quietly as he stepped up to the bed, "but I had to come when no one would notice. I told the guard at your door that you and I had a private relationship," he confessed as his blush darkened.

I lowered the silver candlestick, my only defence, at last, pushed back the covers and stood up. "Why are you here Thomas?" I queried curiously as my gaze flickered to the weapons as he rested them on the bed. I had not seen much of the Howe family, Elizabeta avoided me entirely, Delilah had passed me just once in a corridor and looked at me with dismay before walking on and Thomas I had met twice and both his attempts to talk to me had been thwarted by our guards pushing us on. I was permitted to walk the halls of Vigil's Keep as and when I pleased but always under accompaniment, Arl Howe said it was for my own safety but naturally I had to wonder. Was I a prisoner or guest?

"To get you out of here," Thomas answered firmly, his brown stare turning serious. Thomas was twenty-two like I, with his mother's soft beauty and his sister's gentle smiles. He was a handsome, dark haired, muscular, brown eyed boy, unscathed by battle and bloodshed he retained his innocence, the same innocence I had lost three years ago with Flynn and our unborn child.

"It's not right," Thomas said, turning his stare down on the sword, "what my father says he did and what he did do, I know they're different." He looked back up at me with pity and guilt in his large, warm eyes, it was a look I had seen two mornings past in the vanity mirror across from the bed. "I don't know what he says to you but you are his prisoner, I...I thought he meant for us to marry..." His gaze softened a little as his cheeks turned claret and he continued softly, "I wouldn't have minded that...it would...well I couldn't...I mean..." He looked away again, awkward and uncomfortable once more. "You would have been free of here and perhaps...perhaps we would have restored Highever but now...I don't know what he intends." He looked back at me once more, his brown eyes fierce this time, startling me with their passionate anger. "I won't let it happen though, whatever it is, maybe you will just be his prisoner until the end of the war but it's not right."

"So what do you intend?" I queried calmly though it took everything in me to suppress my quivers of unease.

"These are your family's," he said, gesturing down to the sword and lifting the shield up once more. He showed me the heraldry on the shield, the laurels of Highever, and I felt tears brimming at my eyes. "It's not much," he confessed, "but it is your right to have them, not his. I wish I could have gotten you armour as well but it would have been difficult to find some to fit and there's no time. You need to hurry and get dressed Artemis and then we need to go. The guard will let you out with me but he's seen me carrying the sword and shield, he'll report it when asked and it won't be long until father figures things out. Look, I'll turn away while you get changed and then we must go."

"Where to?" I queried numbly as I continued to stare at the shield, watching as he placed it back down beside the sword. I was unworthy and undeserving of those weapons, because of me my family, the same family that had proudly wielded and handed down those weapons, had been betrayed and slaughtered. There was only Fergus and I left, the weapons and what else was left of Highever and the Cousland family were his to have.

"I don't know," Thomas confessed, "just get away from here Artemis. Things are going to get really bad, and I don't mean this business with King Cailan and the darkspawn, there's something else, father's being busy a lot, I think...I think Highever was just the start."

I shuddered at his confession and forced myself to move; walking towards the wardrobe where my scant collection of loaned clothes sat wrinkled and unloved in the small wardrobe. I paused at the end of the bed and ran my finger along the blade of the sword. "I'm no good with swords," I admitted, "and worse with shields."

"The wilds of Ferelden are dangerous," Thomas cautioned, "worse now with darkspawn, you need weapons and I can think of no better than your family's."

I nodded stiffly as the tears escaped down my cheeks. I wanted to admit my treachery and how I had known what Arl Howe intended for my father and home and gone along with it. It was a poor excuse to say I had not known how bloody, violent and final his attack would be, Rendon was right, it was simply that I had not wanted to know.

I reached the wardrobe at last, opened it and plucked out a cream, ruffled shirt, missing one button, a tight bodice of laced up, brown leather, brown, cotton pants, worn, heavy, black boots and a peasant skirt of plain, dark green. The shirt and bodice were Delilah's, forgotten and unwanted, and the rest had come from a maid or several, I neither knew nor cared. All the clothes had an odd, aged musk about them, various stains and numerous signs of wear. I cast off my hateful Antivan silk nightdress for what I hoped was the last time and placed on my borrowed, soon to be stolen, clothes with haste. The shirt gaped at my bust and stuck out messily at the bottom of the bodice, the skirt was for a woman with narrower hips and the boots were too big but they were all I had and so I would have to make do. I then fastened my hair into a loose ponytail with a band of leather, it was practical and the style of many farming girls but most unfashionable for a Fereldan noble. Compared to the women of Orlais, Ferelden's women had no taste and cared nothing for fashion but amongst their own they strived to show a difference. A noblewoman had money for pearls and the time to sit and have them carefully dotted around a hairstyle that had taken a good hour to take shape whilst a farming, rogue or warrior woman had not the time, the money or the carefree attitude for such styles.

"Quickly now," Thomas urged, his nerves slipping into his voice.

The sun had started to rise, its watery, pink tinged rays slipping in under the curtains at the room's lone window. I turned back to the weapons and reached for the sword, wielded by the Silver Knight, an unnamed mythical ancestor of the Couslands, in the service of the famed King Calenhad; it supposedly had one enchantment or another upon it. I found it heavy to grasp and struggled to lift it with one hand. It was a longsword with a finely sharpened blade, a cross-guard and pommel of gold and a grip of silver hidden under bands of black and gilded leather. I knew, with effort, that I could wield it, but in my hand it would never see its true potential.

I turned longingly to the shield, eyeing the heraldry I had betrayed and would have to forget and knew that I could not carry them both, their weight would be a struggle for me and the reminder they sprung even harder to bear. "The sword is enough," I said calmly as I looked to Thomas who kept glancing at the door nervously, "but thank you for bringing them both to me."

He looked at me aghast, evidently surprised that I would leave the shield in the home of the one who had wronged my family. "I'll carry it," he offered before he plucked it up, hooking his left hand through its leather band. He reached out his free hand to me and I accepted, wondering how it would be possible to walk out of here when we were both armed.

I let Thomas take the lead, pausing while he opened the door to allow me out. The guard regarded me with instant suspicion, his beady, green gaze falling to the sword that hung heavy in my right hand.

"I am escorting Lady Cousland to the training grounds," Thomas addressed the guard confidently with a feigned smile, "she wishes to see my fighting skills for herself." He leaned closer to the man and lowered his voice slightly but it was still audible to me. "She asked if she could see what it felt like to hold a sword, I'm hoping allowing her to hold mine might win me favour but please don't tell father or I might not have a chance to experience the reward she might offer me."

The guard's mouth twitched as he held back a smile and nodded in understanding. I lowered my head in false shyness before allowing Thomas to take my hand and escort me on. It was a laughable excuse for me holding a sword but embarrassing and silly enough to perhaps be believed at least long enough for me to escape. I felt a roll of unease in my stomach at that thought, escape to where?

I had nothing and no one, my family were dead save Fergus, whom I was afraid to ever face again, and yet Thomas was right, I could not stay with his father any longer, it was improper, risky and foolish. What did I expect from him? At best he would marry me off to Thomas but I had no dowry any longer, all the land of Highever was the Howes now, so no doubt he thought it best to wait until a more promising fiancée came along for his son. So what then? Was I to be his political prisoner? The orphaned Cousland he had saved or spared depending on the viewpoint, eventually to be forced to a cloister by his wife or left forgotten in some distant relation's home?

It had only been three days since I had been brought to Vigil's Keep and in truth self-loathing and grief had kept me too much in the past to consider my future. Rendon might keep me for a lover but only if he could keep Elizabeta and his children from noticing or complaining, which would be impossible in his own home and yet to let me go to someone else was a high risk, I could easily be turned into a political pawn. His actions at Highever could yet prove costly for him depending on what the king learned about them, if he learned about them at all. There was a war, perhaps a Blight if the rumours were to be believed, and who knew how long that might occupy the king's attention? I realised coldly that if Rendon and I had not shared many moments under the sheets then he would have killed me with the rest of my family, I was far too dangerous to be kept alive and even now whatever compassion he had for me might leave him or he might consider the risk simply too great. He might never do it himself, and he might even grieve for me and lament the loss, but I could not believe him incapable of it. No, I had judged him meek and merciful before and it had cost me all but my life, I could not make the same mistake twice and lose the one thing I had left, my own existence.

"Will you tell your father goodbye for me?" I queried quietly as Thomas led the way down a cold, stone hall.

I felt his questioning stare upon me and deliberately looked ahead to the large, arched, wooden door. "He says your father moved against him," he murmured, "and that he only retaliated but it got out of hand. I don't believe him." He let the accusations hang there, one implying that his father lied and the other that I knew the truth.

I tensed before answering coolly, "my father mocked him with all that he had, and reminded your father of everything he did not. It was callous, they fought equally at White River, both were rewarded for their bravery in a battle that suffered such brutal losses and yet a difference was made, your father remained just an Arl whilst mine stood above him as a Teyrn. In truth your father dealt with it well, he never acknowledged it, and never seemed bitter to my father over it but my father continued to have more and more and your father less and less and that is the truth of it."

"How..." Thomas halted in his shock, pulling me to a stop with a tight grasp upon my wrist that almost hurt. "How can you speak so ill of your own father? He lies dead and you...you attempt to justify that?"

I met his stare at last, keeping my own gaze cold and firm. "How can you speak so ill of your father?" I accused. "He is still alive and you accuse him of so many things, you were not there Thomas, and you do not know how my father really was with people. To you and everyone else he seemed like a fair Teyrn and a loving father but to my family he was greedy, paranoid and cruel, he married off my brother for money and he took everything from me out of that same greed and a stupid, unjustified fear. Your father liberated me of him," I confessed, pausing as I realised the truth of my words. It was a liberation, I had hated my father for so long that I had not even realised just how strong my feelings of hatred towards him were, only at Thomas' words did the fiery loathing return anew and remind me of why I had wanted him dead in the first place.

"Your grief blinds you," Thomas dismissed, too willing to excuse my hate. He would think cruel things of his father and yet he could not do the same of me, poor, naive and trusting Thomas, I had to envy his innocence even as I scorned it, and pity him for having such faith in my black soul. "Come on now, let's keep going."

It took twenty minutes before we were safely out of Virgil's Keep and off the private grounds. The salty smell of the sea was thick in the air and I could hear the roar of the ocean close by, somewhere beyond a gathering of windswept, dark pines that were bent and threatening to topple with the next storm. Just past them were cliffs Thomas, Delilah, Nathaniel, Fergus and I had played near as children, daring each other to go closer and closer before our guardians scorned us back. I wondered how Nathaniel was, he had been sent off to be a squire in the Free Marches, north of Ferelden, seven years ago. He was the eldest of the Howe children, a close friend of Fergus' before Fergus had started sharing drinks with noble sons and hopeful squires closer to home. Nathaniel resembled Rendon the most out of his siblings in both looks and personality. I sighed thinking of how long ago it was that we were all carefree children building mountains in the sand along the windy shores of Amaranthine and trotting ponies through Highever's forests pretending to be on a hunt. Those years had been pitifully short and I realised with a pang how sorely I missed our youth together and my heart ached to return to those fun and selfish days when finding flowers for Delilah's hair and shells for my collection mattered more to Fergus and Nathaniel than warfare and death.

Thomas paused in the shade of an oak tree at the side of the path leading away from Vigil's Keep and released my hand at last. "I can go no further," he said sorrowfully, "and the guards have probably been alerted so I should go back and distract them if I can." He held the shield out to me expectantly but I should my head.

"Keep it," I suggested.

"For when you restore Highever," he retorted lightly as if it were a simple task. "Stay off the main roads if you can until you are further from here," he ordered.

"Where should I go?" I sounded so lost I was disgusted at myself. It would not do to be so weak or childlike, for better or worse I had made my choices and I had to deal with the consequences.

"Denerim is south," Thomas retorted, "maybe you could find sanctuary there." He shrugged. "In truth I don't know, you will find a village soon, there are many along the way, rest if you can and give yourself some time to think about it."

I nodded before leaning forward in a hurried and sudden gesture and kissing his cheek. The claret flush returned to his cheeks as he looked back at me with a small smile. "Thank you Thomas, for everything," I said sincerely.

"You're welcome Artemis and best of luck," he retorted kindly, "and...and I'll tell father goodbye from you."

I nodded gratefully and hoped that Arl Howe would know that in my own guilty way I was grateful to him too. Thomas turned away and I did not waste in time in turning from him and heading on my way, beginning my journey from Amaranthine beneath a cool, rising sun on a blustery, autumn morning.

* * *

Three days and two nights I had travelled through Ferelden. I had been forced to flee from two bandits and battle a pack of hungry wolves as well as feed off corn and eggs taken from a chicken coop, scraps stolen from a small cottage and, the few weeds I plucked from the ground that I knew were not poisonous. I survived only through luck, sheltering from rain under the trees and sleeping only due to exhaustion as fear, cold and damp usually kept me awake long into the night.

I was exhausted, hungry and feverish as I staggered along the edges of a wood, unsure of where in Ferelden I was. I had been trying to go south to Denerim but the bandits had chased me from the path I had been attempting to follow and I had become lost in the woods. Now I was at the edge of a second cluster of trees, wary of wolves and bears as sweat beaded down my skin as I stumbled over overgrown roots and hidden rocks.

I tensed as a branch snapped somewhere up ahead, relaxing only a little when I heard the call of a crow. The sky was a sickly yellow above, the sun beginning its slow descent as it burned a painful orange in the sky. There were faint grey clouds threatening to roll in and curse me with more rain and though the air was dry and still I feared a breeze to annoy me through the night. I wore a pilfered shirt with a tattered cloak of dark purple wool for limited protection against the elements; the skirt was long gone though the pants, boots and bodice remained, even more filthy and worn than they had been when I had been given them. The boots were heavy with muck and had rubbed my feet raw and caused them to swell with so many blisters that I no longer noticed the pain.

A guttural sound of laughter came from behind me without warning, immediately chilling me to the bone. I felt the wrongness thick in the air as every hair on me stood on edge and my throat turned dry. I was afraid to turn around knowing somehow that it was nothing normal that had given that laugh.

Move! It was an instinct that thundered through me, driving me to turn and swing my sword as fast and hard as I could. It clanged loudly against an axe blade sending painful vibrations through my arms as the metallic sound set my teeth on edge. The blades parted and I staggered back looking up at my foe with horror. I had never seen such a thing before, not even in the darkest corner of the Fade where nightmares tormented me; it was not human, elf, dwarf or quanari but a monster.

It stood the height of a man in rusting chainmail and steel, its head like a rotting, bloodstained skull with the thinnest strip of skin on it. Its smile was ghoulish and sharp toothed, it eyes large, round and misty as if it were blind though I knew it was not and its nose was two rotting black holes. It let out another mocking, deep laugh before it swung the axe again, fast and with ease. I jumped back to dodge and was not prepared for the creature swinging the weapon round, lunging forward and striking me hard in the chest with the blunt end.

I fell back with a cry of pain and only just managed to raise my sword in time to stop the axe blade running me through. I felt the sweat lash down me as I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists and pushed up with all the strength I had. At last the axe swung back and I rolled away before it could come down again. I scrambled to my feet and swung the sword out in a wild curve that the beast dodged easily with a taunting smirk.

We parried back and forth, my blows clumsy strikes that hit its armour only twice, doing no damage, and its blows powerful and blunt. I shrieked in pain when the flat side of the axe's blade caught me hard on the hip, sending me off balance. I only just saved myself from falling and turned with a cry of fury. I forced myself forward, remembering Rendon telling me to bully large foes back, to be too swift for them to retaliate, to use my speed to force them back when strength would not do. On and on I struck out, left, right, up, down, the creature took a step back and then another to dodge. The axe came forward again and my sword came down.

I gave a cry of triumph as the creature hollered in pain as its hand was half-severed from its arm in a splash of sickly, blackish blood. The axe went down suddenly, pulling it down with the weight and I swung out again and again. CLANG! CLANG! I missed its throat and hit its chest. Another swing and another! I was desperate for the advantage and ignored the ache in my muscles as I continued until my blade hit flesh and hacked through its neck. Three blows and at last it keeled over with a death cry. I had mere seconds to savour my victory.

The snarls and hisses came at once and I turned sharply to face their source. Six, three more tall monsters in steel armour clutching weapons and three short, stocky creatures, just as ugly with pale, green skin tight on their skulls, pointed ears and fanged smiles too big for their mouths, they too were in armour and holding weapons. Fear took hold of me and with a scream I turned and fled. Hearing them begin a pursuit I tossed my sword to one side, deciding in an instant that the burden of its weight was not worth the potential of its protection. Armed or not, against six of these awful things I did not stand a chance.

I could hear my heart pounding in my chest; it was so rapid I thought it might smash my lungs to bits. Tears of fright pricked at my eyes as I forced myself to sprint through the trees, horror overruling exhaustion and pain. I glanced over my shoulder and to both sides warily as I ran but could see nothing. I could only hear them running through the trees, their low laughter and hungry hisses coming from all directions. They were everywhere!

I tripped over a rock and fell with another scream. My face slammed hard against the ground and I tasted blood as I bit my tongue in the process. Not wasting any time, I pushed myself to my feet and continued to run again. Closer, closer, I could hear them hot on my heels and did not dare look back this time. I flung the cloak off as branches snagged at it and my hair, before turning sharply to the right to evade a cluster of bushes.

I found myself suddenly running down a hill, too fast to stop and too afraid of tumbling to try and alter my speed or direction. The trees were thinning as I neared the bottom and I realised it reached a clearing. I was free of the woods! I moved with a desperate gasp as my eyes blurred and blood trickled freely down my chin.

BANG! I hit someone or something hard, bruising my face instantly as it smacked off metal. I could hear a shout of alarm, it sounded distant, almost fuzzy as my ears rang and throbbed and my vision flashed red as I hit the ground once more. I rolled, at first in a daze but then it was deliberate as I felt hands reaching for me. I snarled out a protest, kicked out and felt a metallic boot in my chest in response that immediately winded me.

"That's enough! Leave her alone; can't you see she's terrified?" I heard a voice scorn.

I pushed myself onto my hands and knees and spied two pairs of feet, one the metal boots of a soldier and the other a pair of soft, supple, blue travelling boots. I crawled back from them in alarm, glancing over my shoulder to the hill fearfully, making sure I did not move back to there. I had to get to my feet, I had to run!

"Hey, it's alright," the voice spoke again, it was gentle and masculine, "we won't hurt you."

I shook my head, he was right, he wouldn't, they would, I had to go! I tried to stand but my right leg screamed in pain and I crumpled like a limp doll with a groan of pain.

"Must we waste our time with her?" That was a different male, older and sterner.

"She's injured," the first voice spoke. I heard feet approach me, the blue boots, and I shrank back instinctively. "I won't hurt you, I promise," he murmured. He crouched down putting himself in my blurry vision. I blinked a couple of times and then he became clear. He was a dark haired male, a few years older than me I speculated, with a hint of brown stubble at his chin and lip, a straggly fringe, bushy eyebrows, a handsome, fair skinned face and kind, grey-brown eyes that soothed me just a little. He wore expensive looking mustard robes with gold swirls on the sleeves, a caplet of midnight blue leather with a studded trim, a gold clasp to hold it together and a large, gold brooch at the gap in its middle, and his robes pooled down in pale turquoise at his feet, the belt at his waist concealed as he was crouched. "My name is Niall," he introduced as he held out a hand to me tentatively.

"Does she need healing?" a woman's voice called out, firm, practical and much older. I shuddered as I wondered how many people I had come across.

I looked to the hill again and its foreboding trees and babbled, "monsters, you have to run, I have to run!"I tried to stand again, making it upright this time with several winces and gasps. "Get away from here," I urged as I looked back to Niall. My knees buckled beneath me but I stayed upright, gritting my teeth as I realised I did not have the strength to run. I felt myself shake as I thought of those things running down in an ambush and hacking us all to bits. "Please," I begged as I met Niall's gentle stare, "there are too many."

"She's not making sense, mad bitch," the scolding male voice from before mocked. I searched past Niall and spied an armoured soldier glowering back at me.

"Really now, there's no need for such language," I heard the woman scold. I looked again and spotted her further back with another soldier; she wore her silvery white hair brushed back in a tight bun and was clad in robes of fine carmine with gold trim and a corset of brown, black and gold trim under her bust. At her back was a tall, wooden staff, twisting and looping around itself at the top and giving her away as a mage.

I whimpered, unable to help myself, and heard Niall say, "there now, whatever you were running from, you are safe from it now."

I shook my head in futile as I felt my knees shaking together. No, no one was safe from those creatures. I hit the ground before I could stop myself and my vision immediately went black as fatigue and pain overtook me.


End file.
